


Margin for Error

by dendraica



Category: Dragons: Riders of Berk (Cartoon), DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dagur and Shattermaster are alive, M/M, Sibling Reunions, Tuffnut is having none of it, guilt-ridden berserkers with big brother angst, runic magic, the twins practice Seiðr (Norse 'witchcraft')
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything is as it seems after Dagur's noble sacrifice, but one Twin's intuition on the matter would be ignored at best, and branded as hideously insensitive at worst. Tuffnut takes a bold risk, and goes off on a possible rescue mission - telling only Ruffnut and Chicken of his plan.</p><p>His actions have far-reaching consequences for both himself and the other Berk teens, amid the revelation of a new and devastating weapon, as well as a group of even more relentless Hunters than the Grimborns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Fuck."

Tuffnut's soft muttering was the only other sound from that side of the room, other than the clattering of small wooden tiles on a table top. He stared at the runes for another long moment, then irritably gathered them up again and rattled them in his hand.

They fell in the same pattern, with a representative mark lying face-up.

Well, shit. There was really no denying it now, was there? He'd done everything their mother had taught them, every possible spread had yielded the same results. The Norn's message was as clear as it would ever get - at least to a novice seiðmenn(1) like himself. 

"Okay, Chicken," Tuff sighed to his hen, who untucked her sleepy head from beneath a wing to gaze at him. "Looks like that gut feeling you had was entirely correct. He's definitely alive. And there's only one sure way to track him down."

Chicken clucked in concern, but Tuff pet her soothingly. "Hush, little chicken, I know it'll be dangerous. Not to mention the cartloads of chores I'll probably receive as punishment." He shuddered. "Oh, the cleaning I'll be forced to do."

She fussed, plucking at one of his braids.

"What was that? Oh, you're right. Chief Stoick might never forgive me if he finds out. Quite possibly he'll exile me from Berk, maybe even _tear me limb from limb_ in a dark rage."

The clucking only grew more alarmed. Tuff stood up and swept the carved runes into a small leather bag.

"Shhh, easy Chicken. We don't want to wake up -- _AAAH_!" Tuff yelped as he turned to see his sister standing directly behind him. 

"And where are _you_ planning to go this time of night?" Ruff asked, arms crossed. "Please tell me you're not _still_ considering -"

"Sister, I know this is crazy, even for me - but I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important," Tuffnut explained hastily. " _Everything_ is saying -"

"Ugh, I know, okay?" She interrupted testily, holding up a hand. "I did some readings too. All I'm getting is he's alive and . . . somewhere. Totally vague on the where. And while we'd all love to see him again, there's got to be a better way to find him than this! I mean, stealing the Chief's dragon?!"

"Well it's not like he'd just say yes if I asked. I mean, come on - it's _me._ I wouldn't say yes to me, and I'm not even the Chief! Wait, now I'm confused . . ."

"He'd say yes to _Hiccup_ if you told him and the others," she argued, jabbing a finger in his chest.

Tuff just looked at her, not even needing to say what they both knew. Ruff sighed in irritable resignation. "Yeah, I know. You're right. They'd never believe us. And it would really upset Heather if you promised something like this and didn't succeed."

"Exactly. Look, don't worry about me. I plan to make it look like Skullcrusher just randomly took off on his own, and then he'll fly back once we return. That way I'll only have to deal with _one_ angry Haddock." He grinned at Ruff, who rolled her eyes and fondly shook her head. "I just hope I can actually convince Skullcrusher to sneak off and help me."

". . . If you do manage, then you'll need this." Ruffnut handed him a slip of parchment with writing on it. She looked guilty enough that Tuff realized what it was. "Be careful with it. You should bring that back with you if nothing else. Heather was keeping it in a book, but I don't know how often she looks at it or how soon she'll discover it's missing."

The very last thing her brother had given her before . . . yeah, he should _not_ lose it. Tuff folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his vest pocket. "Hopefully I'll bring back more than just a goodbye note."

Ruffnut nodded, then put her arms around him tightly, hugging her brother close. "You better bring your own butt back here too! Relatively unscathed and fast. I can only cover for you so long."

He nodded and handed Chicken to her, who fretted unhappily. "Take care of each other. Chicken, you pick out which stories you want and behave for Auntie Ruffnut, okay?"

She crowed in reluctant agreement and then sneezed, neck feathers poofing up - a venerable poultry-promise. 

Ruffnut handed him an empty pack so he could throw in some last-minute food and supplies. She stopped him before he left, however, to press something in his hand. It was a corded piece of hollow elk antler, with polished bone beads and two raven's feathers hanging from the center.

"I made this a few days ago. In case you decided . . ." She shrugged awkwardly. Tuff knew his sister always had difficulty admitting she loved him with words, but he understood. "It's for protection and help searching. May Loki keep your wits sharp, may Huginn and Muninn (2) guide where you look."

He took the charm, and hugged her again. "I promise I'll be safe, sister."

Ruff rested her sharp chin on his shoulder. "You'd _better_ be."

\-----

Tuff had to pack light - bringing water and simple fare, as well as flint, tinder, needle, fishing thread, and cloth for bandages. Hopefully the latter wouldn't be needed, but he'd rather not be caught without. Anything else would only hinder him. 

Though it would be well past midnight by the time he reached Berk, he'd have to move quickly and keep to the shadows. His face was well-known; even the drunkest Hooligan staggering along home would be able to point him out.

A ride to Berk was only possible if he managed to find a friendly enough wild dragon to take him there, as he didn't dare fly a recognizable dragon to Berk. Luck was with him on that. Not far from their hut, he found a reddish Nadder female who was all too happy to take him in exchange for some sea-bass (unsalted). 

After nuzzling his hand with her nose, she flew them toward Berk, enticed by his promises of all-you-can eat buffet stations and warm nesting stables. And maybe he'd thrown in a suggestion or two about how much more attractive the other Nadders on Berk were, compared to the ones on the Edge. 

Once she landed, the Nadder let him off and immediately went in search of either feeding station or new beau, or maybe both at the same time. He wasn't one to judge and he had a Rumblehorn to find. 

Tuff slipped between the houses until he reached the Haddock house, like a thief in the night - which was more or less what he was. It was less difficult than he'd feared it would be. Since the Thorston Twins were officially elsewhere, nobody was really keeping a sharp eye out for trouble. 

Skullcrusher was outside, curled on a knoll of soft grass where Thornado's hut had been. Stoick had built a grander shelter for him given his massive size. 

"Hey, psst, Skully," Tuff tried, keeping a careful eye on the windows of Stoick's house. He could hear Gobber and Stoick inside, talking and laughing as they drank mead together.

The Rumblehorn opened one massive eyelid and gazed at him. Tuff sat in front of the dragon, keeping his voice low.

"Sorry to wake you, but I gotta ask a really big favor. A friend of ours is out there somewhere and I need your help finding him. But just your help, not the Chief's." 

Skullcrusher rumbled ominously, not liking that idea.

"Yeah, I know, ideally I'd totally ask him, but our friend has a sort of a . . . eh, a checkered past with all of Berk. Still, he risked his life for us, and we owe him one. If Stoick had been there to see it, he'd say yes - but I don't know how much Hiccup's told him about what Dagur sacrificed for us. Knowing H, probably not much. 

"We miss him, his _sister_ misses him and he probably needs us just as much as we need him. We all thought he was dead, but now I know he's alive. But for all I know, he could be trapped somewhere and badly hurt - his dragon too."

Tuff was being earnest, and the dragon seemed able to tell - massive golden eyes holding his gaze. Skullcrusher gave a softer rumble, almost like a purr. Encouraged, Tuffnut continued.

"Please, if you could find it in your big enormous heart to help me track our friend, and then maybe _not_ mention this to anyone -"

He froze as he heard Gobber standing with a clatter, announcing he needed to pay a visit outside to the shrubbery. Frantically, Tuffnut looked for a place to hide. The Rumblehorn chuckled and lifted a wing. Gratefully, Tuff took the opportunity and darted for cover, laying still against the dragon's side as he was covered from sight.

Once Gobber was finished and had tottered unsteadily back inside, Skullcrusher stood up and stretched his limbs.

He looked at Tuffnut expectantly, eyes holding just a glint of amused mischief. The boy had to keep back a loud whoop of excitement as he climbed up into the Rumblehorn's saddle. He took out the folded note and let Skullcrusher catch Dagur's scent. 

After only a moment, the dragon raised his wings and took off with a few mighty beats. Tuff stashed the note back safely in his pocket and held on tight, hoping Loki would continue to favor his search.

\------------  
Notes: 

(1) After watching several seasons of RTTE, it's been brought to my attention that the Twins have shared dreams, seen glimpses of the future (prophecy), and gleaned information they couldn't otherwise know from conversing with animals (Chicken, at least twice). Household magic was common in Viking households, but seiðr was taught through family rather than coven, meaning they'd learn through a parent. It was also considered 'malefic magic', which sounds right up their alley. You can read more about it here: http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/seidhr.shtml

(2) Huginn and Muninn are Odin's ravens, who flew to gather information and take messages. Seeing as how ravens are naturally mischievous and clever, they seem perfectly suited for the Twins.


	2. Chapter 2

It felt like they'd been flying forever.

Tuff had dozed off multiple times, each time waking up with the sun in a different position - which made for quite the surreal experience. Well-experienced by now in the refined art of saddle-napping, he had little fear of falling into the ocean below.

Throughout the day, he'd eaten sparingly and drank only a little water to conserve their rations. As the sun began to set, Tuffnut leaned over to check on Skullcrusher, stubbornly on the trail like the world's biggest bloodhound. He gently patted his flank, and the dragon's pupil shifted to look at him.

"You okay there, Skully? You've been going for hours, you know. Need to break for some fish or answer the call of nature? Anything?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

The dragon gave a low thrum, as though considering the idea, but didn't stop. If anything he flew faster, growling. Tuffnut shook off his drowsiness, heart racing a little. Was Skullcrusher really that close to the end of their trail?

After a short while, the Rumblehorn abruptly dived toward a mist-shrouded island below, requiring Tuffnut to tighten his grip on the saddle as the wind whipped tears out of his eyes. The massive dragon landed with a noticeable amount of noise and grumbled, looking intently straight ahead of them.

Tuff climbed out of the saddle and onto the ground. His legs were sore and stiff from the long ride, but he made himself walk it out, looking around. There were few trees, but plenty of tall rock formations that stood upright like eery monoliths from the thickly rolling fog. The sun was disappearing quickly, and the moon hung yellow and dim - giving everything an uncomfortable reddish haze.

It was far too silent, and Tuffnut had the unmistakable feeling of eyes watching him. Someone was definitely here.

So he did what was clearly the most logical solution.

"Helloooo!" Tuffnut bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth, and then waited. Nothing, not even an echo. Tuff took a breath to do it again, but a hand suddenly clamped around his mouth and pulled him tightly against a solid presence.

"Shhhh! Quiet! Are you insane, just announcing yourself on some unknown island?" hissed a familiar voice.

Tuff spun around and gaped in astonishment before slamming bodily against Dagur and throwing his skinny arms around the Berserker, squeezing with all his strength. "I KNEW IT!" He yelled happily, only for Dagur to forcibly cover his mouth again.

"I SAID, BE--" Dagur started roaring, then flinched and corrected himself. ". . . quiet."

"Sorry," Tuffnut whispered back, and grinned brightly up into Dagur's confused face. He was still clinging tightly to the Berserker, who didn't look like he quite knew what to make of it.

"What are you doing?"

"Um, hugging you? Because you're alive and okay, and we totally thought you weren't?"

"Oh." The red-headed warrior's expression changed from irritably suspicious to outright shocked. Green eyes softened, looking strangely vulnerable.

" . . . You were worried about me? That's why you came looking?" he asked.

Tuffnut fought back the urge to use sarcasm, realizing there was no call for it. After the way they'd acted, why would Dagur believe any of them cared?

"Yes, very much worried," he confirmed, and his tone was sincere. "And also sorry we didn't trust you."

All his doubtfulness seemed to melt away at that. Dagur grinned brightly, swiftly reciprocating the embrace. He hugged Tuff breathless, actually lifting the male twin off his feet, then set him back down and looked around in excitement. "Where are the others? Is Hiccup here? I don't see Toothless . . ."

"No, no, it's just me for now," Tuff explained. "Me and Skullcrusher. I kind of snuck off to look for you alone. They have no idea where I am."

Dagur frowned in concern and started to ask a question. A distant noise made him stop to look around sharply. "Both of you need to come with me, right now," he demanded, lowly. "It's not safe out here in the open."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Tuff's wrist and pulled the rider after him. Skullcrusher followed behind, only mildly concerned.

Tuffnut couldn't seem to keep himself from asking questions, though at least he was attempting to keep his voice down.

"Where've you been this whole time? Why didn't you return? Did you get injured? Where's Shattermaster?"

That last inquiry got a pained look from Dagur. He stopped them in front of a carefully arranged mound of stones, and looked at it numbly. Tuffnut took a moment to realize he'd just been given his answer.

"Oh no . . ." His heart dropped, looking over the makeshift cairn.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," Dagur muttered, stalking off toward the mouth of a cavern. Tuff didn't blame him for being upset. He swallowed hard, blinking back tears of his own.

Shattermaster had bonded with Dagur so well - it had been clear how much dragon and rider cared for each other in the short time they'd been flying together. Tuff couldn't imagine how it would have felt to have lost Barf and Belch on their very first battle with the Red Death.

Even worse was the knowledge that if they'd all just listened to Dagur about the shipyard being a trap, none of this would have happened.

"Dagur, I have never said these words to anyone in my entire life . . . but I am so, so, incredibly sorry," Tuff sniffled, when he heard Dagur's footsteps returning.

"Sorry for what? And why are you crying over my Gronckle's breakfast?"

Wait, what?

Tuff turned around to get a face-full of exuberant Gronckle tongue. Shattermaster wiggled happily as Tuffnut exclaimed over him in relieved joy, scratching the green dragon's bumpy scales.

He gave Dagur a look of mock exasperation, though he had to admit he was impressed with such a brilliantly mastered prank. Tuff paused however, as he caught sight of Dagur's expression, quickly realizing that no such ruse had been intended.

Rather than looking amused or smug, Dagur's gaze held only sadness as he watched Shattermaster stomp happy important circles around Tuff and Skullcrusher. It took a moment to realize what was wrong.

The Gronckle's left wing was a complete wreckage - ragged bits of webbing and tendon barely connected to each other, forming a bridge that was more lace than anything.

Tuff winced. "Was that from the battle?" he asked.

"Dragon-root couldn't bring us down," Dagur explained despondently, "but the arrow that went through his wing must've been coated with something worse. He managed to fly us this far, but overnight it just ate away at the flesh . . . and I . . . " The Berserker actually looked close to tears. "I had to cut out a fair bit more to stop it from spreading. It kept him from dying, but he'll never fly again."

He looked so ashamed of himself, and Tuffnut didn't quite understand why. Dagur had saved his dragon. Didn't he know that?

Sensing his distress, Shattermaster bounded over to Dagur, nuzzling under his hand. The warrior offered Tuffnut a brief smile. "Come on, into the cave. It's big enough for all of us and we'll be safe for the night."

Once they were inside, Dagur started a small fire. Skullcrusher settled down and let them rest their backs against his flank, while Shattermaster happily squirmed to lay beneath Dagur's arm. Tuff offered Dagur some of the bread and yak bacon he'd brought along - which the other man happily accepted.

They ate in companionable silence, but there was no denying the heaviness and self-blame that rested on Dagur's shoulders.

Anyone else might have decided to leave well enough alone, and allow Dagur to feel terrible . . . but Tuff was not a person to leave anything alone, well enough or not.

"Did Hiccup ever tell you what happened to Toothless' tail?" Tuff asked, looking over at Dagur.

"No, I never asked. I figure he just found Toothless injured, fixed 'em up, and boom! Lifelong friendship." Dagur shrugged.

"Huh, well you're almost right. Hiccup did figure out how to fix his tail. He's also the one that shot him down."

The look Dagur gave him was a mix of shock and outrage. "Hiccup? Our dragon-loving Hiccup? Are you being entirely serious?"

"Yes, you can ask him. Trust me, it's not something he's proud of. It was years back when Berk was fighting off and killing dragons that came to raid livestock and burn our houses down. He wanted to make people see him in a better light, I guess, because . . . well, let's face it - we were all total jerks to him. Even his own dad called him the 'worst Viking on Berk'."

Dagur winced at that. "That's nothing new. I'm pretty sure I didn't think too highly of him either."

"Nobody did, Dags. But like he told us, after he shot down the Night Fury during a raid, Hiccup was all set to kill him, and take Toothless' heart to Stoick - all to prove he was a good Viking. A worthy Chieftain's son."

Dagur took a moment to process this, staring into the fire with an unreadable expression. "So with all that at stake, why didn't he?"

Tuffnut's love of storytelling showed its face, and he smiled, eager to do the tale justice.

"Well, as he raised his knife to kill the trapped Night Fury, Hiccup saw his own soul reflected in the dragon's frightened eyes. That's when he knew he couldn't - wouldn't - go through with it. Instead, he used that same knife to cut through the bola that had knocked dragon from sky. Toothless immediately sprang on him - delivering an ear-splitting roar directly in Hiccup's face! The Night Fury was injured, maddened with pain, and ready to turn Hiccup's tiny frail body into a chew toy."

Dagur was entranced. "And then . . .?" he breathed, attention riveted on every word.

Tuff grinned. It had been a long while since he'd had such an appreciative audience. He went on to describe all that had happened - how Hiccup suddenly and mysteriously excelled in his dragon classes, turning heads and making his people adore him. Except Astrid of course; who was slowly consumed by jealousy fit for a Jotunn.

Eventually, Hiccup and Toothless' untoward friendship was discovered by Stoick after Toothless endangered himself by protecting Hiccup in the Kill Ring. Stoick had taken most unkindly to that, though given what had happened to Hiccup's mother - it wasn't hard to understand why.

The resulting battle at the Red Death's nest was a story all in itself, one Tuff found joy in retelling - given how Dagur was soaking it all up. If Tuffnut was a good storyteller, Dagur was an excellent listener.

The Berserker was quiet for a long moment after Tuff had finished, actually tearing up a bit. "So Hiccup and Toothless . . . they've really been through a lot together, haven't they?"

"Oh yeah, injuries, limb-loss, getting captured, lost, separated. I don't think any of us have really given our dragons the luxury they deserve. I mean, both dragon and rider do their best to make sure nobody gets horribly mangled, but sometimes things just happen." Tuff looked pointedly at the Gronckle in the room, then back at Dagur. "It sucks and all, but come on - don't you think Shattermaster would be furious with you if it was really all your fault?"

Dagur bit his lip and looked at his dragon, who wriggled joyfully in response and tried to lick his face. The warrior laughed, affectionately scratching the Gronckle's chin. "You know . . . maybe you're right. Thanks, Tuff."

The smile he gave Tuffnut made the other boy feel incredibly warm. Not sure why his face was hot, Tuff managed to grin back.

"Do you think Hiccup might be able to make something for Shatter's wing?" The Berserker asked.

"I can't see why not. I mean, he practically made his own set of wings. Now every time we drive Hiccup crazy enough to jump off a cliff, we can rest easy - knowing he'll be safe." Tuffnut smirked cheekily, making Dagur laugh again.

Finally, relief and hope was lighting up Dagur's face, and it made Tuff feel something he didn't have a name for.

"Good. Then you should definitely take him with you. Skullcrusher's strong enough to carry him, right?" Dagur asked.

Tuff's smile faltered.

"Um, yeah, he's strong enough to carry all of us back to the Edge," Tuff replied, eyes narrowing a bit. He had an idea he knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and quite frankly, it had better not be . . .

Dagur only shook his head, looking oddly peaceful with the idea of being left all alone on a deserted island to possibly die.

It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that Dagur believed that was acceptable.

As he started to say what Tuff just knew would be some kind of self-sacrificing drivel, the Thorston twin irritably beat him to the punch.

"Wait, let me guess. You're not coming because you think you've messed up too much in the past, or that you're not 'good enough', blah blah blah, to be 'one of us' because you're oh so dark and edgy and evil! Ugh!" Tuff threw up his hands. "You, sir, are definitely your sister's brother! She tried the exact same nonsense with us too!"

The Berserker's jaw had dropped open slightly, clearly not expecting such a tirade. "Tuffnut, you have a sister," Dagur stated, "So I know if you really thought she'd be happier without you around-"

"I'd entertain the idea for maybe a few minutes, but conclude it was still utter yakshit to let her go on thinking I was dead, once I had the opportunity to tell her otherwise! Or that it was ever her fault I was possibly dead!"

That shut Dagur up, his face turning slowly ashen. "Does she think it's . . .?"

"Yes, she does! Dags, a blind man could tell how much she regrets not giving you a chance! And given how both of you blame yourselves for literally everything that goes wrong ever, I would bet she thinks she singlehandedly caused you to sacrifice your life for us."

Tuff couldn't seem to help his ranting - but at least Dagur seemed to be listening to reason. Or at least considering listening to reason . . .

"Well, then talk her out of it. Because I can't go back! Everyone knows I'm a terrible brother -"

"NO! It's not my job to talk her out of it, Dagur! It's her brother's job. You might believe you're the worst older brother in the entire archipelago, but it still doesn't relieve you from the sacred duty of being her brother." Tuff crossed his arms, meeting Dagur's fierce glower with his own.

Dagur scowled, but looked away first. Tuffnut regarded him quietly for a moment.

"She needs you," he said softly, earnestly. "Even if she never says so, or if she swears she hates your guts, Heather needs you. Family isn't supposed to be warm and cuddly all the time - it's supposed to suck and feel impossible!

"Ruff and I are closer than ever, but we've tried to kill each other on countless occasions. We still do sometimes. We've said words siblings should never say to each other, and done things - horrible things - that should have made us enemies for life. It won't be easy, but you and Heather can work through this."

"I've killed . . ." Dagur pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. You really think we haven't?"

The Berserker looked up sharply, and Tuff could tell he was remembering all the dragon attacks - the sinking, burning ships, the men who drowned or never made it past carnivorous eels to climb to safety.

"So you've made mistakes, okay - so have a lot of other people. But you're trying to fix them, which is hard. Honestly, it would be way easier on you to just forget Heather and continue being a murderous ball of rampaging death. You aren't choosing that; you found a reason to change - and that's great, Dags, but come on . . . no-one ever said you have to do it alone."

Dagur's eyes looked overly bright when they at last met Tuffnut's, and he suddenly grabbed the youth's sleeve, dragging him into a tight embrace. "Thank you. That was . . . I mean, I don't really like being shouted at, but everything you said . . ." He trailed off, sniffling.

Tuff's heart was pounding. He reasoned he'd been expecting an attack, not a hug, and that was surely the reason why.

"Eh, it was stuff you needed to hear," Tuff shrugged, rubbing Dagur's back kindly. "Sorry I got snippy. I just . . . kind of stole the Chief's Tracker Class dragon to find you, based only on runes that informed me you were alive somewhere. Well. Probably alive."

He flushed, wondering if he should have said all that. "That's not too crazy, right?" Tuff amended hurriedly, when Dagur pulled back enough to stare at him intensely. Tuffnut chuckled nervously. "I mean, you can see how frustrated I was, with you just wanting to stay behind and die anyway, right?"

Those emerald eyes seemed to bore into him, recategorizing him as though Dagur had never seen Tuff before in his life. Dagur blinked and looked away before it could become too uncomfortable.

"We should let your dragon rest up tonight, and then we'll leave at dawn. You sleep. I'll keep first watch, in case anything tries to investigate the cave. There's been a few incidents of that." Dagur leaned back against Skullcrusher. He had not let go of Tuffnut, who was obligated to follow, pressed against the Berserker's side almost protectively.

He made no effort to pull away, simply muttering and shifting - not entirely certain if he should be making an effort. It wasn't like it bothered him; Dagur's body was warm, and Tuffnut hated being cold.

"Go to sleep," Dagur murmured gently, as though he were a child.

Tuffnut might have taken offense to that, had it come from anyone else. Instead, he felt oddly safe.

After setting his helmet and all reservations aside, Tuff rested his head against Dagur's shoulder, falling asleep within several breaths.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

She totally had this.

She was clever, she was suave, she was the _master_ of stealth.

Ruffnut Thorston was completely on top of her game as she snuck from the clubhouse to the hut she shared with her twin, plate full enough to feed two.

She was above all and any suspicion, simply bringing a meal to her bedridden, sick, hungry, (absent) brother, and there was absolutely _no reason at all_ for her to scream when a friendly hand came to rest upon her shoulder.

Aforementioned scream was artfully condensed to into a faint squeak as she turned around to face Hiccup. "Hey there, Haddock, what's up?" Ruffnut asked smoothly, managing an easy grin.

"Just wondering if everything's okay, Ruff. I haven't seen you two all day. And now you're eating alone?"

He looked at her laden plate. Hiccup was genuinely concerned for them - that much was evident in his expression.

Ruff was almost tempted to tell him everything, but held back - Tuff had promised to return soon, whether or not he'd found who he was looking for.

"Yeah, Tuff's come down with a really bad cold, and I'm naturally doomed to be next," she shrugged. "So we're quarantining ourselves, and I'm bringing him some soup. At least until it's his turn to wait on _me_ hand and foot."

Hiccup tilted his head. "That's awfully _nice_ of you . . ." His eyes narrowed just a tiny bit, and Ruff nearly broke out into a cold sweat. Hiccup was getting suspicious.

_Uh oh. Time to ditch the 'doting sister' act!_

"Well, not entirely," she said, smirking. "See, there are spices in this broth hot enough to make a Monstrous Nightmare cry. A time-honored matriarchal family recipe to clear out the old sinuses. And arteries. Possibly even bowels. So if you hear any piteous _blood-curdling screams_ coming from our hut? Pay them no mind." Ruff smiled sweetly.

"Ah, okay . . . well, thanks for that warning. I'll just . . . leave you to it." Hiccup let go of her shoulder and started to back away, looking a little squeamish. She was lucky it hadn't been Snotlout who stopped her; he'd have wanted to watch.

Ruff saluted him and hurried away to shut herself in the hut. Sighing in relief, she set the food down on the table. Chicken clucked curiously and jumped up, pecking at the slices of bread.

"Hang on, I'll get your dinner."

She filled an empty bowl with oats, peas, and barley and set it down in front of the hen, watching Chicken tuck in happily.

Ruff dallied with her own food, frowning at the chalk circles Tuff had been using for his runes.

Since this morning, she'd been jumpy and nervous and had soon determined that she'd had a bad feeling from the start about Tuffnut taking this journey alone. Her twin brother truly had a silver tongue, as he'd managed to soothe her fears enough for her to let him go at all.

If anything happened to him as a _result_ of that sweet-talking gab of his, Ruff swore she was going to knock all his teeth out. Gnawing at her bread and cheese, Ruff tried to ignore her growing feelings of unease and foreboding until they reached an almost unbearable intensity.

With a growl of irritation that masked her worry, she left her dinner to fetch her own bag of runes.

A half hour and several readings later, Ruffnut's food was stone cold and forgotten. She stared at the spread quietly, helplessly willing the runes to divine something harmless - far from than the threat of death she saw heading toward her twin.

Chicken lifted her head from her meal, and crowed worriedly at her.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Chicken," Ruff muttered, chewing her lip. "Considering what's coming, he better have found Dagur by now - maybe both of them will stand a chance to getting out of there. So the question is . . . _did_ he?"

She scooped the runes up and put them all away, save for one of the futhark. The tile would land face up for yes, face down for no.

Ruff watched the tile drop, and then sighed in relief at the answer. "Chicken, I'm afraid 'special time' has been slightly compromised. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, though - promise."

The hen ruffled her feathers and cooed, which Ruffnut took to mean she both comprehended and forgave.

"I knew you'd understand, girl. Mwah." Ruffnut delivered a little kiss to Chicken's head and stood up, stretching until her back popped. "Time for bed. Haven't tried to do this since we were seventeen, so I'm a little rusty. It's all I can think of to try and warn them."

Ruffnut laid down in her bed and looked up at the ceiling, taking a few calming breaths, first clearing her mind like their mother had taught them.

Then she focused on thoughts of her twin.

His sly secretive smile. Shared looks of awe, mirth, and sometimes sadness. Laughter, teasing, scraped knees as they raced together from some indignant neighbor's berry bushes. Tuff's fingers braiding her hair, while muttering the entire time about how long it was taking - just for the sake of complaining.

Asleep before she knew it, Ruffnut dreamt.

\------

Dawn's light crept slowly over Tuffnut's face, warm and yet annoyingly chasing off the darkness to tint his eyelids red. He'd been semi-awake for a few seconds and was stubbornly attempting to drift back to sleep. Only the sharply distressing dream which had woken him moments ago prevented him.

"Non, je veux dormir, s'too early for danger," Tuff mumbled hazily, wrapping an arm around the solid warmth he was nestled against, and hid his face.

A hand resting on his back (and a sudden savage mental _kick_ , accompanied by a barrage of warning dread) brought him reluctantly to full consciousness. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wondering why he felt like he'd just been thoroughly cussed out.

"Wake up. It's morning," Dagur murmured.

Tuffnut rested against him for just a moment longer, half-scheming of a way to absorb all the man's body heat, then obligingly made himself sit up. The cave was cold and it was barely sunrise. "Ugh, who invented daylight anyway?"

Dagur smirked. "Not a morning person, are we? I'll go find us some breakfast. Hope you like gull eggs." He stood up and started toward the cave opening, and Tuff's mind suddenly screamed with danger.

"Dagur," he hissed and scrambled after him. Without knowing why, at least not until moments later, he pushed both himself and the Berserker out of sight. Skullcrusher and Shattermaster went silent, laying low behind stalagmites and peering warily out at the cave entrance. They weren't even growling, which was somehow more alarming.

The Berserker opened his mouth to question, but Tuff put a finger to his lips. Dagur blinked in astonishment as several pairs of booted feet - wrapped in animal skins to muffle their noise - raced past their hiding spot.

They were cloaked in white furs of the great northern bears, some even wore the muzzles and jaws of the animals as headwear. The stench that followed them was thick and unsettling; spilled blood and rotting flesh.

No wonder the dragons were keeping quiet - these men smelled entirely _wrong_.

"Those are not Viggo's dragon hunters, are they?" Tuff whispered.

Dagur shook his head. "I've heard of these guys," he said very quietly, motioning for a worried Shattermaster to stay put. "They work for one of Viggo's competitors - some big shot warlord. Usually they hunt lot farther up north, and are said to be completely ruthless. Definitely would have killed me on sight."

He glanced at Tuff. "I heard nothing. Not even the dragons did. How'd you know there was danger?"

"My sister warned me," the boy replied, nervously eyeing the group of hunters discussing plans right outside the cave. Dagur's curious gaze pressed him to elaborate. "Sometimes we share dreams,” he shrugged.

"That is so _cool_ ," Dagur breathed, grinning excitedly. The lack of any skepticism or scorn in his voice made Tuffnut smile back at him warmly.

The hunters didn't seem to be interested in the cave at the moment, but their luck couldn't hold forever. "Come on, there's a back door. Sort of. No idea if it's clear of these guys, but we can't wait here." Dagur motioned for Tuff to follow.

Along with their dragons, they moved as stealthily as they could, further into the cave and into a side-tunnel.

They moved as swiftly as they could, knowing if they were ambushed in such a tight space, they would likely die. Dagur knew where he was going though, navigating every fork in the tunnels with confidence.

Several times the passages narrowed to the point it would have been a struggle for Skullcrusher to move through. He instead chipped away at the troublesome close edges with his horn, creating a molded doorway for himself out of sheer stubbornness. Tuff had to admit he was impressed.

As the Rumblehorn breezily walked through each dragon-improved passage, Tuff lightly nudged Dagur. "Definitely Chief Stoick's dragon, am I right?" he smirked.

"Yep. I still can't believe you did that, Tuffnut. What if he throws you in jail?"

"Eh, I've been there countless times for numerous charges," Tuff shrugged. "In my usual cell, I have a running discourse with Dogsbreath and Thuggory on the walls. We discuss theology, music, the arts . . . they’ve such sensitive souls for repeat offenders."

Dagur glanced at him briefly, then looked away. "So long as it's not Alvin's jail," he muttered, which was oddly specific. "Because then, your Chief and I would have _words_."

Tuffnut was curious as to what that meant, but they'd come abruptly to the end of the tunnels.

They were just inside a sheer cliff-face, with an eighty foot drop to the ocean waters below. A fleet of ships covered the surface - each sporting a sail with an unfamiliar symbol.

Beside him, Dagur swore. "Great. I was hoping they wouldn't have surrounded the island." He ducked back further into the cave.

After a moment, he came back to retrieve Tuffnut, dragging the other boy along by his belt and ignoring his protests. "You really _don't_ want these guys to see you, Tuffnut! Viggo's men are barley cakes compared to them."

"But who are they? I didn't recognize the crest!"

Dagur only shook his head. "If I tell you who this guy is, or what he's like or what he's been doing, you'll tell _Hiccup_ , and Hiccup will go after him. Viggo might be willing to play his little 'Maces and Talons' game with you riders, but this guy? He will _slaughter_ every last one of you. No snappy comebacks, no ransom, no torture, no prison time, not even selling you into slavery - just swift, brutal _death_."

Tuff gulped. "Well, _he_ doesn't sound very fun. How do we get past him?"

"We might _not_. It's possible they already know we're here. I've only been dealing with wild dragons on this island - it's thick with Changewings. So I never bothered to sweep up our footprints or even bury the embers from last night's fire. Ugh, the _one time_ I wasn't careful enough - stupid, _stupid_ , Dagur!" He berated himself, thumping his forehead.

Tuffnut firmly pushed the man's hand down. "No! You STOP that! **Not** stupid Dagur! _Smart, resourceful, brave, handsome_ Dagur! You know these creeps, and you know this island. So if anyone can save our butts, it's you!"

Dagur didn't answer right away, staring in apparent shock. At Tuff's trusting look, he snapped out of it - all business.

"Okay. Here's what's going to happen. You and I will --"

_Turn around, right **now**._

The warning hit him suddenly, like a foot treading on his burial mound - making him inattentive of Dagur's words. Instead, he gripped the knife at his belt and faced the tunnels.

"Uh, Dags? We're about to have company," he told Dagur tensely, drawing his weapon.

Without even hesitating, Dagur stood at the ready - listening carefully, with axe in hand. "You are _really_ _good_ at this whole 'timing your warnings' thing," he complimented. "I hear them, we've got at least five incoming."

Tuff tried not to look as terrified as he felt, but Dagur held a deadly sort of stillness - not unlike the calm before a storm. It gave his own courage a slight boost.

Nevertheless, when the first bear-hooded man came out of the tunnel, eyes wild, eerily not making a sound - Tuffnut felt his heart seize up. He dodged the wildly swinging spiked club and got in under the man's arm, slamming elbow into ribs. It threw his attacker off balance, but did little else.

A blow to the temple drove him back and strong hands suddenly closed off his air supply.

Dagur had already swiftly dealt with two, and was grappling with a third before he noticed Tuffnut's plight. The boy was struggling to get free of the iron grip at his throat, tearing frantically at the thick hands that were attempting to crush his windpipe.

Having no other recourse, Tuffnut brought his knee up as hard as he could between his opponent's legs. As the Hunter swayed, loosening his hold, Tuff managed to break away and punch him out.

Thus occupied, he had no time to dodge the spear tip that suddenly slammed into his breastbone as he turned to face the next onslaught. The impact sent sickening waves of pain through his body and knocked him off his feet. Tuff hit the ground hard and could only lay there, gasping for air and vaguely wondering why he wasn't gushing fountains of blood.

Dagur swiftly tackled the Hunter before he could do any further harm. In fact, the Berserker was more brutal with this one than seemed wholly necessary, breaking the man's arm and shattering his nose. He left the man's body slumped pathetically against the wall, but there was gentleness and genuine worry as he helped Tuffnut stand up.

Both of them looked in consternation at the bloodless spot where the spear had shredded cloth and leather, until Dagur pulled open Tuff's vest to find a strangely decorated piece of antler in the pocket.

Ruffnut's charm had certainly done its work. Tuff knew he'd better be thanking her _profusely_ when they made it back. It had saved his life, even though his ribs and sternum hurt tremendously.

Without waiting to see if he could walk, Dagur scooped him up in his arms and carried him over to Skullcrusher. "This isn't going to be fun, but it's now or never. Shattermaster? You gotta trust me, buddy. When I say jump, you jump out after us as far as you can, okay?"

The Gronckle made frantic noises of agreement, wriggling nervously.

Dagur climbed in the saddle behind Tuff, and wrapped his arms around the twin tightly. It made his chest hurt even worse, but Tuffnut refused to complain - focused on breathing past the pain. The best he could seem to manage were sharp, shallow pants.

"Okay, Skullcrusher, after you catch my Gronckle, we're going to have to avoid lots of flying projectiles. The higher up you get, the safer we should be."

The Rumblehorn growled an affirmation and within seconds, they were out of the cave and airborne. Skullcrusher beat his wings hard to stay in place, as Shattermaster leapt after them. Though Skullcrusher quickly caught the smaller green dragon in his talons, there was still time for the outcry and scramble aboard those ships to turn into _action_.

"Up!" Dagur yelled in alarm, as several nets and chains were aimed their way. His grip on Tuff served a purpose; anticipating the Rumblehorn’s moves, he leaned both of them in the saddle to aid the dragon’s speed and agility in dodging the many attempts to take them down.

Though quite a few were close calls, they were lucky enough to avoid all. Within seconds they had put several layers of cloud between them and the warlord's ships below.

Only when they'd flown well out of range and sight, did Dagur relax his hold on Tuffnut, doing a quick check to make sure both his Gronckle and Skullcrusher were unharmed from their harried escape. Satisfied they were no worse for wear, he turned his attention back to Tuff.

The blond dragon rider was still having trouble drawing full breaths of air into his lungs. "Why can't I breathe?" he gasped, in between breaths, starting to panic a little.

"Take it easy. It was a very hard blow you were dealt, so you're probably winded. You can get enough air if you slow down and breathe deeper. It'll hurt, but it's no fun to hyperventilate. You know, I'm actually impressed you haven't passed out already; you are going to have some _intense bruising_ later on."

"We Thorstons are made of . . . _mostly_ indestructible stuff," Tuff wheezed. "Though I forget exactly what at the moment."

"Mm-hmm." Dagur was nodding, seeming more interested in examining the red fingerprints marking up Tuffnut's throat. He ran his fingers over them absently, then lightly tugged at Tuffnut's tunic. "Mind if I see just how bad it is?"

No . . . he didn't think he minded. Tuff slipped his vest off one arm, undid his belt, and allowed Dagur to pull up his shirt. The Berserker leaned him back in his arms so he could get a better look.

There was a harsh imprint from where the spear had slammed into him, made fortunately blunt by the antler charm. The skin and muscle around it was swollen, mottled, and turning swiftly dark.

"I know some plants that can make a poultice, and some that will relieve pain. I'm sure we can find them when we stop to rest and feed our dragons in an hour or two. You just lay back and try to take long deep breaths now, okay?"

Tuff nodded as Dagur let his tunic fall back into place and this time more carefully wrapped his arms around him. He leaned back against the other man, strangely enjoying being held like this.

"So back there . . . did you mean what you said?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I always mean what I say. Wait, about what exactly?"

"About me. Smart, resourceful, brave, _handsome_ . . ."

Tuff felt blood rushing to heat up his face, especially as he could find no reason to refute it. And even if he could, he still  _wouldn't_ \- honestly, had anyone _ever_ payed Dagur a genuine compliment? He certainly hadn't heard of it.

"Well, you do have a certain . . . _je ne sais quois_ . . ." he mumbled quietly. "I'm not gonna lie."

Dagur backed away from the topic, either sensing his uncertainty or completely satisfied with Tuff's answer. "Hmm. Okay. Just curious."

The Berserker said nothing more, but stroked the inside of Tuff's wrist with the pad of his thumb. Tuff decided not to think too hard about the confusingly pleasant thrill that gave him, and finally started to breathe easier.

\-------------

Ruff grumbled at the incessant knocking, disturbing her well-earned slumber. Well, more of a relief-induced coma than any sort of restful slumber. Chicken fluttering to land on her bed was what made her finally sit upright to call out a polite greeting to her visitor.

"Ugh. _What_."

Considering she'd just been awakened before noon, this actually was rather polite.

"It's me," Hiccup called. "Just checking in on you two. Still feeling under the weather?"

Loki, that kid was sweet. The guilt was strong, but Ruff held steadfast. "Um, yeah, pretty severely!" She deepened her voice to try and sound like her brother, theatrics included. "Oh, I am _very much_ under! Loki, why have you cursed us? Have we somehow _displeased_ you, our Beloved Trickster?"

". . . Tuff? Is that you? You sound awful."

Nailed it! She did a celebratory air punch.

"Should I send for Gothi?"

Ruffnut nearly panicked.

"NO! Uhhh, I mean, no worries, H! It's just a cold, and I'm pretty sure she'd have lots to write about if you made her drag her bones alllll the way out here, you get what I'm saying? I mean, its just a bit of extra snot, and coughing, and puking --"

"O-Okay -"

"Ohhh, the _endless_ puking - almost as bad as the _wishing_ we were _dead_ \- (that's a symptom of colds, right Chicken? Yeah okay, thought so.) Not even gonna mention our _intestinal woes_ \- all the times we've had to frantically run to the -"

"Ah-ah-ah! I _get_ it, no need to describe any _further_ , thank you!" Hiccup yelped.

"Point is, you _really_ don't want to come in here. It's for the best if neither of us are seen for the next few days," Ruff said, hoping Hiccup and the others would accept that. Her brother was going to owe her _so_ big after this.

"Okay, if you're sure. We'll take care of Barf and Belch for you. Just let us know if you need anything, or if it gets worse."

Again, the guilt gnawed at her relentlessly. Why did he have to be so nice? "Thanks, man. Just leave a little food and water at the door every once in a while, would ya? We'll see if we can keep any of it down."

"Okay, will do. You guys get some rest. And get well soon, huh? The Edge isn't the same without you."

Ruff threw her arm over her face, biting her lip as she heard Hiccup walk away. She was internally screeching just a little - why did he have to be so freaking nice? It wasn't fair! The remorse was becoming _unbearable_!

Unable to sleep any further, she sat up and shuffled across the room to get Chicken her breakfast, and grabbed a piece of leftover toast and yak cheese for her own. At least the danger had abated - her numbskull brother and company would be fine as long as they didn't do anything _boneheaded_ , like directly seek out a ship to attack.

A cautionary reading of the futhark put to rest any lingering doubts of her brother's safety. Ruff sighed and watched Chicken peck out the last grains of her meal. The hen clucked once and looked at her expectantly, prompting a smile.

"Well, I did _promise_ , didn't I? Ahem . . . Once upon a time, there was a brave, tiny little chicken who could lay eggs made of solid gold. She was owned by a huge, mean, frozen-hearted Jotunn, who lived in the sky and made her lay these golden eggs all day long. But one day, a young dragon-riding pair of twins were flying around just below the Jotunn's palace, arguing over who had the best helmet (it was the girl's), when a golden egg mysteriously fell from a window - and right into their hands . . ."

Chicken fluffed her feathers, sitting down politely to hear the rest of Ruffnut's tale. It was a good one, and she had many more to tell over the course of the next day or so.

For now, it would seem they both had a fair bit of time to kill.


	4. Chapter 4

The island they'd stopped at was only a fraction of the size the other had been, and had excellent tree cover. It would be much harder for anyone to sneak up on them, and this time they had dug a fire-pit in the sand for easy burial. For the fire itself, they'd used Gronckle lava, which burned hot but gave off little smoke. Tuff had no shame in admitting he was just as unnerved as Dagur from the last near-fatal encounter, and he had no problem taking every precaution.

Skullcrusher gave a soft purr of approval as Dagur set another pile of fish down before him. The makeshift net he'd woven from long water grass had worked to catch plenty of fish. Hungry from the long flight, Rumblehorn happily tucked in. "Awww, there you go, big guy. I'm sorry breakfast was delayed for so long," Dagur cooed, petting the dragon's head.

Tuffnut smirked a little, unable to help himself. Who knew Dagur would be the type to baby-talk dragons? It was downright adorable. He poked at the cooking leaf-wrapped parcels of fish, using the stick to flip them over. Their lunch smelled delicious, especially with the herbs Dagur had gathered.

Culinary herbs hadn't been the only thing the man brought back. Tuff gingerly touched the center of his chest which sported a huge ring of almost black around the site of impact. Other herbs were soaking in water along with clean bandages, boiling over the fire in Tuff's upturned helmet.

He'd stripped down to his boots and leggings, and it was for this reason he had no problem sitting so close to the fire to tend both food and medicine. Dagur was at his side as soon as he'd made sure Shattermaster was content with his rocks. He peered at the helmet's contents, looking satisfied at the water's greenish color. "Almost done. Does it hurt a lot?"

"Yeah, it's tender. It looks real pretty though. All the colors . . ."

The Berserker laughed at that. "You'll be seeing even more colors later, as it heals." Dagur looked at him again and snickered. "I almost can't believe you. 'It looks pretty'. You are just so  _adorable_."

Tuff ducked his head, trying to hide a grin behind his hair.

It was weird. Normally he was the last person to feel flustered or shy, but around Dagur he felt different. Not like his usual self at all.

"Ruff's gonna want to rip their heads off when she sees this. Bruises are her territory. Speaking of territory, you said those hunters were supposed to be far up north. Why would they be in these waters?"

"My guess? Whatever dragon they're hunting has gotten scarce, or changed its migration route. Probably due to Viggo and his precious Dragon's Eye. He's very big on 'supply and demand', so he's been using it to get an edge on the market. Now he captures dragons that his competitors specialize in, and sells them at slightly lower prices. For men like that warlord, it means they'll have to get their supply straight from Viggo."

"Wait, so Viggo's been using the Eye this whole time? Did he find a Snow Wraith key? How'd he unlock it?"

"Flightmare fire. It burned away any need for a key, and gave him full access. He's such a cheater, I hate him," Dagur spat. "I just want to take his too-small head and twist it until it pops off like a beetle's!"

"Ooh, or maybe douse him with Monstrous Nightmare gel and toss him in a Fireworm pit!" Tuffnut offered, eagerly diving right into it.

Dagur blinked at him. "Huh. That's a good one. Though I probably shouldn't be thinking like this anymore."

"Heh, yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to try and knock you off the wagon, there."

Smirking, Dagur waved it off, then used the stick to pull the fish out of the cook fire. The food would have time to cool while he tended to Tuff's injury. He used the same stick to lift a dripping, steaming cloth out of the boiling water. "Okay, lie on your back."

Nervously, Tuff stuffed his rolled up tunic under his head and laid down. He watched Dagur set the herb-soaked fabric down on another big leaf, letting it drain and cool. 

Once it was bearable to the touch, though barely, Dagur folded the poultice into a square and draped it carefully across Tuffnut's bruised skin. "Owowow! That kind of burns," Tuff complained, shifting uncomfortably beneath it.

"It has to be hot for the herbs to work. Sorry. It'll cool soon, but heat should help relieve the pain."

Tuff groaned in pure misery, but trailed off at the feel of fingers stroking his braided hair. Dagur had reclined next to him, humming softly and soothingly.

This was different. Usually Tuffnut was the one who did the touching - whether slinging an arm over a companion's shoulder, or outright hugging. Nobody _ever_ touched him back; it just wasn't the Hooligan way. Dagur seemed to like doing it, and he wondered if maybe it was just a Berserker thing.

Whatever it was, he kind of enjoyed being on the receiving end for once.

"I think you're right," he mumbled. "It's hurting less now."

"Good. We'll just leave it on for a while longer, and then we'll eat. After that, I think we should keep on flying until we get there. How are you getting Skullcrusher back to Berk?"

"Well . . . I was gonna let him go on his own, but with these guys around, maybe I should just keep him on the Edge and throw myself at Hiccup's mercy. Maybe he won't tell Stoick the truth when we escort him back." Tuff shrugged gingerly. "Eh. Whatever happens, it's not like I'm gonna regret looking for you."

Dagur went silent for a long moment, then made an odd little squeak and abruptly sat up.

"Um, you okay?" Tuff tried sitting up, then winced and laid back down.

"Sorry," Dagur managed, scrubbing a hand across his face quickly, his back to the rider. "I'm fine. Just . . . got something in my eye."

"Oh. Probably a bug. I hate it when they do that."

Dagur nodded and then finally turned around to grace him with a watery smile. Once the heat from the poultice dissipated, he removed it and wrung it out in the sand, allowing the rider to sit up.

After they'd finished their seared halibut, Tuff helped Dagur kick sand into the shallow fire pit as the lava cooled into hard slabs. They did their best to eliminate all traces that both man and dragon had been there, neither willing to take chances again.

Tuff had carefully dried off and redressed, sitting once again in Skullcrusher's saddle with Dagur behind him and Shattermaster being carried below. It would be at least several hours flight back to the Edge, if the wind currents were favorable.

"You guys must've flown really far," Tuffnut muttered, watching the islands below speed past.

"We were chased initially. Because he was hurt, Shatter had to fly low across the water. He was very slow, but every time we saw those two ships behind us, he put on a burst of impressive speed. No matter how much I begged him to stop and just give me up, he kept flying _all night_ until we finally lost them."

Dagur looked down fondly at his dragon, who happily wriggled in response - nearly causing Skullcrusher to drop him. "He really is something. If I'd known what saving me would cost him . . ."

"He loves you," Tuff said simply. "Nothing was gonna stop him from saving your butt. Gronckles are _notoriously_ stubborn. One of the traits I like about them, honestly."

"Kind of like you," Dagur smirked. Tuffnut looked over his shoulder, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "Well, _you_ refused to leave me behind too. Guess I must have really left an impression at that shipyard."

He was only joking, Tuff _knew_ that, but color rose to his cheeks regardless. "Come on, Dags, I liked you _way_ before that," he blurted out defensively. Wait . . . that came out weird, didn't it? Fuck.

"You did?" came the quiet reply. Tuffnut glanced again over his shoulder and offered the Berserker a grin.

"Well, you were the most _impressively fun_ villain we ever had the pleasure of fighting. I _still_ want one of those arrow launchers for Snoggletogg, by the way."

". . . that letter was from _you_?!" Dagur squawked, almost sounding offended.

Tuffnut howled with laughter, even though it physically hurt to do so. He trailed off soon enough into wheezing, and Dagur pulled him back once more to rest against him. The Berserker was shaking his head in amusement.

" _Breathe_ , you crazy Hooligan," Dagur teased, which of course did nothing to end Tuffnut's mirth.

\------------

The hand prodding her shoulder was like an annoying mosquito and no matter how she slapped at it, she always seemed to miss.

"Ruffnut, wake up."

And apparently the stupid thing had wandered into her hut and had learned her name. Ugh. It had even learned to sound exactly like -

Ruff's eyes snapped open and she sat up at the table, a piece of bread stuck to her face. "Heather?! Uh, what are you doing in here? W-We're sick." She glanced to the door of the hut, and saw it was still bolted shut.

"I brought water and soup and tried knocking, but neither of you were answering. So I came in through the window," Heather said, as though that was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. She gently peeled the bread off Ruff's face and tossed it aside. "I was worried. Where _is_ your brother?"

Ruff swore under her breath and made a show of looking around, also noticing Chicken was gone. Double yay.

"I guess I need to go find his sorry butt and drag him back to bed. He probably went stargazing with Chicken."

"I'll go with you. You shouldn't be wandering around the island alone if you're sick," Heather offered.

There was no dissuading Heather's genuine kindness, and Ruff supposed she'd better thank Loki it hadn't been Astrid who'd broken in. That girl would've gotten to the truth of the matter twenty minutes ago.

 _Tuff, you'd better find a way to come back before we've combed this entire island, or your ass is as dead as mine,_ Ruff thought viciously, as she and Heather walked off toward the dragon stables.

\----------

Dagur was softly snoring by the time the familiar profile of the Edge came into view, face pressed against Tuff's shoulder. Tuffnut hadn't bothered to wake him, knowing he had kept watch all the previous night and was likely exhausted.

As Skullcrusher veered to land on the deck of the stables, Tuff held on to Dagur's arms to keep the man from falling off. Skullcrusher let Shattermaster down gently, then landed his own massive form - causing a tremble to go through the wooden boards.

The light jolt was enough to startle the Berserker awake and he was off the Rumblehorn and on his feet within two seconds, looking around. Tuff dismounted much slower, moving stiffly until Dagur aided him.

Black and bright blue suddenly flanked them on the painted deck.

"Dagur? What - _how_ -?!" Hiccup was already dismounting from Toothless and crossing to meet them. The Night Fury bounded at his heels, tongue hanging out of his usual wide grin.

On the other side of Skullcrusher, Tuff could hear Astrid giggling as Shattermaster happily licked her face. "Okay, down boy, we're happy to see you too!"

Dagur opened his arms for a hug from Hiccup, only for Toothless to dive forward and head butt him affectionately, knocking Dagur over onto his back. As Toothless pinned him down and gave him an impromptu bath, Tuff felt himself likewise tackled from the side.

"Bro!" his twin screamed, hugging him around his neck tightly. Which at any other time he might have fully enjoyed, but now . . .

"Ruff," he begged, breathless with pain.

She got off him immediately and started to check him over, expression dark. "You're hurt, aren't you? I _told_ you not to be. I'm gonna punch you right in your wound." Her threats were as empty as her hands were gentle as she sought out the source of his injury.

She found it when her hands touched his sternum, by the wince that crossed his face. "You idiot," Ruff muttered as she examined the bruise-blackened skin.

Dagur finally was allowed up, attempting to brush off the dragon spit and answer all Hiccup's questions at the same time. The others had found their way to the source of the commotion by now, and at least Fishlegs looked on the verge of bawling. Tuffnut snickered as he hugged Dagur, unaware of what the poor man was covered with until it was too late.

Everyone was surrounding Dagur, happy he was alive. All except for one person.

"Hey, where's Heather?" Tuff asked his twin. Ruff stopped muttering hexes under her breath aimed toward his attacker, and looked around for her owlishly.

"Aw shit," Ruffnut muttered, and Tuff followed his sister's gaze toward the entrance of the stables.

Heather was standing there, with Chicken nestled in her arms. The girl was visibly trembling, tears standing in her eyes but none of them falling.

"Hey, um, Heather?" Tuff ventured, going near her. He didn't even know what he could say or do.

Fortunately, his sister did. Ruff held out her arms for Chicken, and Heather gratefully gave the worried little hen into her keeping. Wordlessly, before Dagur even had the chance to see her, the dark-haired girl turned and left through the stable's other doorway that led to the stairs.

Ruffnut watched guiltily and turned to look at Tuff. "She's gonna need some time, I guess. I know we weren't _trying_ to upset her, but . . ."

"Yeah, I know. But if I _hadn't_ \- the same goons that hurt me would have killed --"

"You know, maybe you should save this story for the rest of us, Tuffnut," Hiccup's voice interrupted.

Tuffnut froze at the cool anger in his tone and reluctantly turned to face his friend and leader. Beside Hiccup stood Astrid, with an equally stormy expression.

"So . . . what, you're not happy he's back?" Tuff attempted to joke. Hiccup's hand on his shoulder spun him around and steered him firmly toward the stairs.

"Clubhouse. _Now_."

 


	5. Chapter 5

The wood grain of the Clubhouse table was fascinating to study in times of stress. All those wavy lines and knots could soothe whatever harsh words glanced off Tuff's shoulders whenever he and his twin screwed up.

That however, was for those rare times they actually felt bad for whatever they'd done. For Tuffnut, such a time was not now.

He patiently sat through the lecture, meeting Hiccup's gaze unflinchingly. Tuff had already decided he wouldn't regret his choice since finding Dagur, and he was stubbornly standing by that resolution.

Ruff wasn't with him, having instead been given the chore of settling Skullcrusher in for the night. They would be escorting the Chief's dragon back to Berk in the morning.

To say Hiccup was utterly furious with him was a bit of an overstatement, but he was certainly not happy after he'd listened to Tuffnut's account of all that transpired.

"While we are all incredibly relieved Dagur is alive and safe," Hiccup started, "I can't accept or appreciate your decision to go looking for him _alone_ without telling anyone but Ruff! Do you _know_ what could have happened to you out there? You even told your sister not to tell us! How would she have lived with herself if that spear had taken your life? And if all that wasn't bad enough, you _stole my father's dragon_ to do it!"

"I didn't _steal_ anyone's dragon," Tuff said simply. "We don't _own_ them. All I did was ask Skullcrusher for help. He could have refused, but he agreed to track Dagur down - and you know the rest."

"Yeah, we know the rest. Not sure why you think we'd believe it. Runes told you he was alive?" Astrid chimed in. "I know Gothi hasn't trained either of you."

"No," Tuff muttered, not really looking forward to explaining this. "No Völva has trained my sister and I in anything, Astrid, because wise women tend not to practice or teach seiðr." (1)

"Dark magic? Are you _serious_?" (2)

"Oh, come on. We worship _Loki_ , hello? How is it so hard to believe? We've been learning from our mom since we could talk, and we're actually pretty good at it too. And before you ask, no - we've never cursed any of you. Well, except that one time when we were six and Ruff tried to cause all of Astrid's hair and teeth to fall out."

"Excuse me!?" Astrid fumed.

"Relax, it's not like it worked! I mean, _obviously_."

"Tuff, I don't know if I believe all this either," Hiccup sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Certainly not to the extent that I'd ask either of you to predict the outcome of any of our missions."

"We wouldn't if you did ask. You're our fearless leader, H - that means you get to trust your gut. Does Stoick go running to Gothi for a reading every single time he needs to make a decision? I would like to think not."

"So you're admitting depending on runes isn't a solid or practical plan?" Astrid asked.

"Uh no. When did I say that? The runes don't do everything; you have to understand when to use them. I had a feeling Dagur wasn't gone, and it didn't ever leave. I'm usually right about feelings, and in that case, the _futhark_  confirmed I was correct. They couldn't say _where_ he was though, so I had to think of another way to find him."

"That's why you needed Skullcrusher," Hiccup put in, sounding at least a little more understanding.

"Yes! Also, if I'd come to you guys saying I knew Dagur was alive - whether by seiðr or cold scientific _fact_ \- you never would have believed me! You probably would just have yelled at me for being a tactless jerk. It was better for me to just sneak off. That way, if I failed to actually bring him back, nobody would have been hurt, or had their hopes raised for nothing."

Tuff thought of Heather, and wondered where she'd hidden herself for the night. He'd been hoping for at least some positive interaction between them, but more bad blood existed between the Berserker siblings than he'd accounted for.

"Considering everything that's happened, I figured it was a painful topic," he continued, shrugging. "Especially for _some_ of us."

Astrid's gaze softened somewhat. "You were trying not to hurt Heather."

"Yeah, in a sense," Tuff admitted. "I didn't mean to upset her by bringing him here so unexpectedly, but I'm not sorry for going to look for him. I couldn't just ignore the signs Dagur was alive. Even if nobody would ever believe me, I had to try. Not because it was fun or sneaky or any of those things, but because Dagur deserved better than what we all gave him the last time he was here. You guys really have no idea how hard it was, convincing him we would even want him back."

Hiccup's expression changed to one of surprise, and then sorrow.

"You're right, Tuff. Dagur has more than earned our trust with his actions, and we should have acted better. I'm happy we have a second chance to make him feel welcome here. What you did was crazy and reckless, but brave and actually? Pretty smart. I wish I could promise my father will feel the same way, once he finds out why Skullcrusher went missing."

Tuff winced. "Any chance of you not telling him? Maybe stretch the truth just a tiny bit for the old T-nut?"

Hiccup gave him an unimpressed look. "You mean lie to him for you?"

"Oh, please, like you've ever needed a _reason_ ," Tuff grumbled, which earned him a glower.

Astrid was the one who came to his rescue. "Hiccup, out of curiosity, what _have_ you told Stoick about Dagur? Does he know what happened at that shipyard?"

"No, he doesn't," Hiccup admitted. "I haven't really mentioned Dagur at all. Mostly because I'm not sure how to explain why I once trained one of Berk's most dangerous enemies to fly a dragon."

"Well, you're going to have to figure it out soon, because if Stoick visits unexpectedly and sees Dagur here . . ." Astrid trailed off meaningfully, and Hiccup nodded.

"Oh, I understand only too well how that would go. Now that he's safely here, we need to make sure he doesn't get thrown back into Alvin's prison. I know my dad, and he doesn't give trust easily. Unless he sees proof of Dagur's change with his own eyes, my father will only see him as a dangerous enemy."

Hiccup turned back to Tuffnut. "Well, since I can't tell the truth after all, it looks like you're off the hook with Stoick, Tuff. But you're still coming with me to Berk first thing in the morning to take Skullcrusher home. We can tell Dad he took off to look for a mate.

"If anyone asks, you are officially on punishment detail for some horrendous prank or another, which should surprise no-one. So you're going to help out for an _entire day_ doing work around the village - whatever repairs need done. I know you're injured, so it won't be hard labor, but it will definitely keep you busy."

Tuffnut nodded, breathing out in slight relief. "I can respect that, oh _lenient_ one. Tough, but fair . . . ish."

"Good. It'll also give us a chance to gather extra bedding and any other stuff Dagur will need if he chooses to stay with us. I'm bunking him with you two for now. Ruff can sleep up in the loft of the hut since it has a locking door."

Tuff was surprised, but if Hiccup was expecting any kind of protest, he was going to be disappointed. "Okay. I think we have an extra blanket, and I can find something to serve as a pillow -"

"I'll leave you to figure all that out, Tuff. Go get some dinner, and then get some rest. You've got a long day ahead."

Tuff nodded. His rib cage hurt just thinking about the ride to Berk, but still he refused to regret anything.

Finding Dagur was surprisingly easy; he was more or less right where he'd left him - at the stables. All he had to do was follow the sound of the Berserker's voice.

While Skullcrusher contentedly slumbered in the next stall, Dagur was stroking Shattermaster's scaly head and singing to his Gronckle as though he was newly hatched. The green dragon was lapping up the attention, eyes blinking in contented sleepiness. Tuff grinned and leaned against the door frame, listening in.

 _Sleep you when the dark ice groans_  
_Frost and fire nearing_  
 _Sleep you when the silence moans  
Sleep you with no fearing_

 _Sleep you well and sleep you long_  
For life will leave you weary  
Sleep you still and sleep you strong  
'Til you no longer hear me

Dagur didn't have a bad singing voice at all, and even if he did - there was nothing ill to be said of the transparent affection in his tone.

Once Shattermaster's eyelids had at last drooped closed, Dagur glanced over at him and smiled. "Hey, there you are! I wondered where you and Hiccup went. Have you seen Heather?"

"Uh, yeah. So she's had a bit of a shock, seeing you alive and all," Tuffnut admitted, guiltily. "Might be best to give your sister a little space for now. Like maybe a few days. Or a week. You know what, let's try a year."

The Berserker's expression grew solemn. "She really did think I was dead, didn't she? I'm sure the letter I left about our father didn't help matters either, but I needed her to know. Just in case I didn't make it."

Tuff was about to say something he hoped was at least vaguely comforting, but green eyes captured his own, and Dagur's hands on his shoulders drove all coherent thought from his head.

"Did my brother yell at you? I imagine that's why you look so upset. You know, Hiccup was probably just worried about you, taking off like you did. He cares about you riders a lot."

If there had been any residual sting from Hiccup's lecture, those words would have soothed it all away. Tuff wasn't ever one to hang his head, but confirmation that Hiccup cared for him . . . well, maybe now he felt somewhat guilty.

"You're not in _too_ much trouble are you?" Dagur pressed.

"Oh, nah, Hiccup and I just have to take Skully back to Berk tomorrow and not tell Stoick about all the fun times we had." The look on Tuff's face was a little more strained than carefree, and Dagur noticed.

"You are in trouble, aren't you?" The man looked a little crestfallen, more than Tuff cared to see.

"I'm always in trouble. It's okay, it would be weird if I wasn't," Tuffnut shrugged. "I needed to grab some stuff from home anyway. We'll probably be back before dusk. Tonight you'll have to bunk with me and Chicken, in our hut -"

Dagur looked up sharply at that, and Tuff blinked, feeling suddenly and strangely unsure. "Of course, if you don't want to, that's totally fine -"

"No, I don't mind!" That grin was back, the one that made Tuff's chest grow tight. "I can sleep on the floor."

"Nonsense, my bed's big enough. I widened it to account for Chicken's flailing nightmares, which hopefully she _won't_ be having tonight. You'd find the _demented howling_ quite disturbing, I should think."

That brilliant gaze only grew wider. "Really? The bed? You actually don't mind?"

"Why would I? You're _not_ sleeping on the floor, Dags. It gets drafty, and I don't think we've swept since we lost the broom. Wait, did we ever _own_ a broom . . . ? Eh." Tuffnut shrugged, not all that concerned. "Anyway, we should get some dinner. You hungry?"

Dagur looked thoughtful, then shrugged amiably.

It was too late to break their bread with anyone beside Ruffnut; everyone else had already finished their meal by the time Tuff and Dagur arrived at the edge.

Ruff brought out a platter of leftovers - beans, bread, and yak chops - and all three helped themselves to it. There wasn't much to disturb their idle chatter, save for Hiccup coming by and promising to have a look at Shattermaster's wing first thing in the morning. More than likely, he'd be spending all of tomorrow designing a wing prosthetic at Gobber's forge.

Dagur of course pulled him into a bear hug, much to everyone's amusement but Hiccup's - although Hiccup didn't really seem that upset. He even half-returned the gesture, awkwardly patting Dagur's back, then gave his 'brother' a warm grin before leaving them.

"Three whole days of dishes," Ruff grumbled, as they neared the end of their meal. "That's what your little quest cost me. You know I _hate_ washing dishes." She kicked her twin under the table twice; he'd partially avoided the first, so the second was twice as hard.

"Ow! It was _worth_ it," Tuff hissed, scowling. He gestured with his eyes toward Dagur, who had cringed guiltily, then glowered at her for saying that right in front of him.

"Awww, I'm not mad at _you_ , Dagur. Totally glad you didn't buy it out there. I'm just not thrilled my _idiot brother_ talked me into lying to Hiccup's face. He was really sweet and worried about us, ya know! I'll probably _never_ live this down."

"Astrid's lied about way bigger things, and Hiccup's forgiven _her_ ," Tuff pointed out, which seemed to mollify his sister somewhat.

"Yeah, true." Ruffnut finished her food, and then grinned mischievously. "So Dagur. Are you sleeping with my brother tonight?"

Dagur promptly inhaled his drink and went into a coughing fit.

"Wrong pipe?" Tuff asked, completely oblivious. "I _hate_ when that happens. And then you think you should drink _more_ , and it doesn't really help -"

Ruffnut just smirked. "I'll take _that_ as a resounding yes. Ya know, if my brother makes too much _noise_ , you can just put a pillow over his face. That way he won't wake up the entire Edge."

The look on Tuff's face was of confused annoyance while Dagur looked positively mortified.

"Oh, come _on_ , sis, I don't snore _that_ badly. Will I perhaps mutter phrases that sound _terrifying_ out of context? Occasionally, but who doesn't?"

Abruptly, the Berserker's shoulders dropped in slight relief and he gave Ruffnut a suspicious look. She returned it with an all too-innocent smile, batting her eyelashes.

"Well, I still feel it fair to warn you, Dagur - my brother's probably _just awful_ in bed."

"You know what, _I'll_ be the judge of that," Dagur countered, getting back on even keel. He was looking amused now, over whatever strange fit he'd been having before.

"Thanks, Dagur," Tuff grinned, successfully ducking yet another heaping spoonful of innuendo. "Glad _someone's_ got my back."

"Oh yeah, somebody's definitely got you from _behind_ , brother."

"Um, is that _not_ what I just said?"

Dagur's face was in his hands, shoulders shaking. Thinking he was coughing again, Tuffnut thumped his back, then stopped when it only seemed to make matters worse.

"And on that note, I'm gonna get started on these dishes," Ruff snickered, getting up from the table. She arched an eyebrow at Tuff. "And _you_ better have one heck of an awful punishment to go through in the morning, _mister_ , or life's just not worth living anymore."

She carried dishes and platter to the kitchen's washtub, and Dagur stopped to gLance at Tuff uneasily.

"By 'awful punishment', she doesn't mean anything painful, does she?"

"Eh, I don't know. I mean, the ride to Berk won't be much fun, but the ride back? Uuuugh." Tuff shuddered. Not satisfied with that answer, Dagur grasped his shoulders and turned the twin on the bench to face him.

"Chief Stoick _isn't_ going to _physically harm_ you, right?" The Berserker asked intently. Tuffnut saw real worry in his eyes and it tugged at him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.

"No . . . he'll just give me bunch of chores around the village. I was thinking more of how all _this_ would feel," Tuff reassured him, gesturing to his bruised chest.

"Oh." Dagur sighed in relief and nodded, giving Tuff's shoulders a light squeeze. Tuffnut once again had questions, but before any could be asked, Dagur was standing up and also pulling him to his feet.

"We should get to bed then. I take it you'll be leaving at dawn, and you are _definitely_ _not_ a morning person. No sense in depriving yourself of sleep."

 _Well_ , Tuff thought as he was herded toward their shared hut, _guess I can't argue with that logic._

\---------------

Finding extra bedding was a little trickier than Tuff had anticipated, especially since the only extra quilt he owned had been torn up by little chicken feet. He'd already figured he could give Dagur his pillow and roll up his lambs wool vest to cushion his own head, but it would be cold tonight; the thin woolen blanket would not be enough.

Dagur knelt by the tiny stove to put another log in the grate, attempting to coax the banked embers into flames. Chicken strutted around him, clucking warily as she inspected this newcomer to her domain with the utmost scrutiny, and mostly getting underfoot. Dagur very carefully stepped over her and sat on the bed next to Tuff.

"I keep meaning to sew this," Tuff muttered, shoving the tattered quilt back into the chest. "But I always forget."

"You sew?"

"Yep. One of the many things our mother taught us. My sister hates it because I'm more skilled at it than she is," he smirked. "I even do embroidery."

"Hmm. I like sewing. Little tasks like that always help me clear my mind. I suppose I could try to mend a few things while you're away tomorrow. Maybe I could work on that quilt?"

Tuff grinned at him. "If you ever get a moment to yourself on this crazy island, I'll be surprised - but I keep all my needles and thread over in that box, which is resting on that tower of crates, which is of course leaning against our stuffed yak."

Dagur squinted, just making out the precariously balanced pile in the darkness. "Your side of the hut is a bit . . . _chaotic_ , one might say."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

Stuff was in carefully constructed piles everywhere. Nearly every piece of furniture was a clutter-catcher, and a cargo net draped from the ceiling held a large number of assorted boxes.

"You think this is crazy, you should see my _sister's_ side of the hut. It's absolutely immaculate - devoid of all the comfortable clutter that makes a home. Everything has its place, too. It's so tragic. I don't know how she lives, let alone finds anything."

Dagur looked thoughtful. "You two are very different. And yet, you get along so well . . ." There was just a touch of melancholy there. Tuff nudged Dagur's shoulder with his own.

"Hey, it's all going to be okay. Your sis will talk to you eventually. Heh, if she doesn't, you wanna trade?" Tuff attempted to joke.

The Berserker tried and failed to give him a disapproving glower, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement.

Tuffnut shrugged casually. "I'll put that down as a maybe."

Snorting, Dagur stood up and started to take off his armor. "We should attempt sleep while we can. I think we'll be warm enough with the fire going for tonight."

Tuff said nothing, struck suddenly mute as the chest plate was lifted off Dagur's shoulders and set down near the bed. The man was wearing a worn tunic beneath, with worn patches and tears throughout.

He made a mental note to steal a couple of his father's shirts once he got to Berk. It wasn't like the man would notice them missing, since all he seemed to ever do was sit by the fire and drink leftover tavern swill. Those should be big enough to account for those . . . well-toned muscles . . . and flawless biceps . . .

His face felt hot, and he worried if maybe the stove was working too well to sleep comfortably tonight. Dagur looked back toward him as he finished taking off his shoulder guards, tasset belt and bracers.

"You don't mind, do you?. My armor's dirty and too sharp to lay down in comfortably."

"N-Nah, it's fine." Tuffnut stammered. (What was wrong with him?) "Must be kind of a relief, getting out of all that heavy iron."

"Oh, it's not heavy. It's made of Gronckle Iron. I commissioned it as soon as I got out of prison. Hmm. I almost don't want to wear these old rags to bed either," Dagur muttered, looking down at his tunic.

"Please don't," Tuff said without thinking. "I _mean_ -" he scrambled frantically as Dagur gave him a quizzical look over his shoulder. "Please don't feel like you _have_ to, because I've probably got something else you can wear instead."

Shaking his head at himself, Tuffnut dove into the chest again, rooting around until he came up with something that looked comfortably big. In a moment he was shaking out a large flaxen shirt and holding it up to check the size. "Here. I was going to take this in to make a new tunic, but it should fit you."

The shirt was soft and clean, though a little bit wrinkled. It had been loaned to him by Fishlegs a while back and since he'd never asked for it back, abandoned into Tuff's possession. (Not that the other boy was _aware_ of lending it in the first place.)

"Oh, thanks!" Dagur took off his own torn garment, draping it over a chair. He made no move to take off anything else, sitting on the bed again.

Tuff's suddenly stricken expression made him frown. "What's wrong?"

" . . . your _back_ ," Tuff muttered. He reached out, lightly touching the edge of a raised scar that continued around to Dagur's ribs. The Berserker flinched, but allowed it.

In the moment Dagur's back had been exposed to him, Tuff had seen healed and jagged lines crisscrossing his skin; an illustrated map of pain. Only a whip could have scarred him so, and the force behind such rending blows could have only been . . .

"Alvin?" Tuff asked lowly, suddenly and viciously _glad_ the Skrill had blown apart Outcast Island.

Dagur's earlier protectiveness and concern over punishment made too much sense now.

"Hey now, that's in the past," Dagur said, gently taking his hand before it could explore any further. "I'm not _there_ anymore. I'm safe here, with you."

"We should never have left you there," Tuff gritted out, without thinking. Dagur just looked at him and Tuff flushed, feeling like an idiot.

"Everything that happened there is between me and Alvin, not between me and you guys. Okay?"

In other words, he had already forgiven them, and he didn't want to talk about it. Tuff nodded. "Okay, Dagur," he replied, unhappily.

A warm palm caressed his cheek and made him look up.

"That being said, I can't remember a time anyone's been so worried about me." Dagur's sudden grin was inviting, teasing - and it dispelled any lasting tension between them immediately. "Aren't _I_ supposed to worry about _you_? I mean, you are smaller."

"If you're insinuating that I'm _fragile_ , I'm gonna make you sleep on the floor after all, mister," Tuff fired back, smirking. He tossed the shirt at Dagur, who chuckled and put it on. "Anyway I'm at least an inch taller than you."

"Helmet spikes don't count," Dagur informed him sweetly.

Tuffnut pouted a little, having nothing to counter that with. He was appeased by Dagur putting an arm around him and drawing him into a side-hug. He had to admit, it felt far nicer without the armor in the way.

They made themselves comfortable, a feat made just a little more difficult by Chicken's restless behavior. She first plopped herself on Tuff's stomach, then stomped all over Dagur's chest before attempting to settle herself between their hips. Finally, she chose to make her nest in the blond braids sprawled out across Tuff's pillow. Dagur seemed entirely amused by this.

"She reminds me of a cat I used to have, when I was little," he remarked, yawning.

Tuff just murmured hazily in response. The warmth from the fire, Chicken's soft feathers, and Dagur's close body had swiftly coaxed him into sleep. He didn't see the Berserker's eyes soften as they watched him, or notice the calloused fingers that gently stroked his cheek.

By the time Ruffnut came back to the hut, glad to be done with the stupid dishes and eager for bed, both Dagur and her brother were completely dead to the world. Ruff rolled her eyes, and climbed the ladder to her room.

"Goodnight, idiots," she murmured down to them fondly, and shut herself in for the night.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) "Völva comes from a root meaning “magical staff,” and throughout the Norse literature one sees female prophetesses and witches bearing a staff. The term völvadates back to the early Germanic tribes, where the term is found in the name or title of some tribal seeresses.“ - Viking Answer Lady
> 
> Gothi seems to fit into this role nicely, and would indeed be considered the only dependable seeress on Berk. Her brand of magic would be known as spá, which is considered 'good magic’ rather than 'dark magic’ (seiðr).
> 
>  
> 
> (2) "The practitioner of seiðr was known as a seið-kona (seið-wife) or seið-man, but these terms tended to suggest a "black magician,” so that frequently a seið-worker is called a spá-kona or spae-wife instead to avoid blackening their name with the negative connotations of seiðr.“ - Viking Answer Lady, http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/seidhr.shtml
> 
> I bet there would be many prejudices on Berk against using seiðr, but since the twins already have prejudices stacked against them thanks to the lowliness of their clan, they wouldn’t really care that much. These same social marks against them would have kept both kids from being trained under Gothi anyway. (Though even if they had been trained in spá rather than seiðr, it likely never would have stayed that way.)


	6. Chapter 6

_The trees in the forest were long and pale - moonlit shards of bone that reached endlessly to the sky. Tuff panted with terror, rubbing at the pain in his side as he tried to get his bearings.  
_

_It was proving hopeless; everywhere he looked the trees seemed to have changed their position, while the stars above were formed in constellations he'd never seen. As he watched, they formed seamlessly into black glistening arrows, dripping ichor into the horizon._

_There was seemingly no way out of this fenced in glade, but he had to warn people - his friends, his sister. Something was coming._

_Far off voices shouted his name, and he ran towards the familiar noise, calling back to them anxiously. Occasionally he would stumble, slipping on patches of slick crimson-spattered leaves. A feeling of resignation was already flooding through him - that no matter how hard he tried, he was going to fail. This would all be for nothing._

_His legs felt like they were mired in wet river clay and his heart nearly burst with effort as he ran, hopelessly trying to break free of the forest. More and more of those horrible arrows relentlessly flew overhead. The air and sky were teeming with them, and distant screams began fading into permanent silence._

_Tuff didn't dare look behind to see the bringer of his own death, but he could feel its hot breath as it leapt upon him with a discordant shriek -_

"Easy, hey - hey! Tuffnut - !"

Tuff gasped frantically, struggling against the hold on him until he registered Dagur's slightly panicked voice. A quick look around the half-dark room didn't immediately reassure him he'd only been dreaming - not until concerned clucking noises came from beside the bed.

Shivering, he glanced over the edge to see Chicken tilting her head, feathers puffed up in worry. The hen craned her neck to peer closer at him, burbled soothingly, then pecked at some spilled grains on the ground to show him how perfectly safe it was.

Dagur leaned over to face him, peering at Tuff intently. "Are you okay? You awake? That sounded like a crazy nightmare." His hand squeezed Tuff's shoulder, offering comfort.

Rather than pull away and protest he was fine, Tuff stayed right where he was, heart pounding. "The _arrows_ ," he muttered, still dazed. "A-All the arrows . . ."

It seemed urgent that he tell someone about them, though he couldn't remember _what_ exactly, or _why_.

"There's no arrows here - you're safe, we're all safe. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Now just lie still for a moment, and take some deep even breaths. There you go."

Dagur's advice wasn't all that helpful; breathing deeply was difficult thanks to his battered chest and ribs. The man's voice however, was full of warmth - soothing away the residual terror and helplessness that the dream had left him with.

Tuff took a shaky breath, mentally correcting himself. It hadn't been just a dream. He rolled on his side to face the Berserker, welcoming the close contact as his heart-rate slowed. Dagur made a soothing noise, moving a few tousled braids out of Tuffnut's face.

Nobody had ever treated him like this after a bad vision before. As much as his twin loved him, Ruff wasn't one to coddle. Once again, Tuff honestly wasn't sure how he was _supposed_ to react; it was everything he could do not to curl forward and hide his face against the Berserker's shoulder like a frightened child.

"You feel any better?" Dagur asked after a minute.

Tuff nodded, disoriented and a little upset, but his panic had dulled significantly.

Dawn's pale light was rapidly bleeding through the covered windows. Though he was certainly wide awake now, Tuffnut didn't feel rested at all. He'd still made no move to pull away from Dagur's hold.

"Please tell me that isn't the sun and that we can go to sleep for another eight hours," Tuff moaned. "Lie to me, if necessary."

"Sorry, but I'm pretty sure that's daybreak."

". . . Lie to me _better_."

"Come on, let's find some breakfast. It'll help." Dagur sounded amused but sympathetic. His arm braced across the younger man's back was the sole reason Tuff was able to sit up, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Feels worse the day after, hmm?" the Berserker asked, and without thinking to ask, slid his hands up beneath Tuffnut's shirt, feeling along his ribs. The twin yelped in surprise and then in distress as Dagur's hands sought out and found several incredibly tender spots. Dagur frowned in concern.

"I was afraid of that. No ribs are broken, but if they're still hurting like this, it means at least a couple are dislocated. I get that it's Hiccup's call and not mine, but did you tell him how badly you were hurt?"

"I showed him all the bruises," Tuff groaned, squirming as Dagur pushed him onto his back and then flipped him by the hips to lie on his stomach. Warm palms and fingers flattened themselves over the cage of his ribs. A light tinge of color dusted his cheeks - was Dagur really this concerned over him? First comforting him over that dream, and now -

Wait, what _was_ he doing now?

Tuff had his answer when Dagur swiftly applied pressure over his bruised skin, popping several ribs back into place. He was thankful he didn't have enough breath to scream as loudly as he wanted to.

Snatching a pillow, Tuff used it to muffle his pained keening, embarrassed at himself for possibly the first time in his life. He had to admit though - the pain had almost immediately lessened afterwards.

"Warning you would've been worse. You might have tensed," Dagur said apologetically, hands still lingering over Tuff's skin. He retracted them as the door to the loft above opened slightly.

"Hey, if you're trying to kill my brother down there, the _least_ you could do is wake me up first so I can _watch_."

"I'll remember that next time!" Dagur called up to her, amused. Ruff snickered, and the door clicked shut again. He gazed down at Tuffnut, who was still trying to catch his breath - curled on the mattress beneath Dagur. "Your sister's so _funny_. As if I could ever kill you."

The transparent affection in the Berserker's tone rendered Tuff momentarily speechless, a rare achievement in itself. Dagur winked down at him (which did _not_ help), and moved away slightly.

"Well, in any case, you should be taking it easy today. I bet that Gothi woman will say the exact same thing if she saw the state you were in. I'll talk to Hiccup before you have to leave."

Tuff nodded, trying unsuccessfully to will the heat out of his face as he carefully sat up. He noticed with relief that he was able to move easier on his own. "Thanks," he murmured, glancing at Dagur.

The Berserker had begun to put his armor back on, piece by piece, over the shirt he had given him last night. For some reason, Tuff couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Don't mention it. You really do need to rest. Hey, could you get this buckle over here? I always have trouble reaching this one."

In an instant, Tuff was at his side, swiftly fastening the troublesome piece and lightly adjusting the others.

He could still vividly recall arrows filling up the sky, but the man's nearness drove the chilling vision toward the back of his mind. A portent such as this needed to be taken seriously, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on it just now.

Hopefully it wasn't foretelling any immediate threat. Tuff had the distinct and unwelcome feeling today was going to suck hard enough already.

\------

If Dagur still had any doubts about whether the riders had wanted him back on the Edge, they would be gone by the end of breakfast.

Hiccup and Astrid greeted them warmly the moment the two of them entered the clubhouse. Just as eager to talk to them, Dagur took a seat at their table and Tuff headed into the kitchen to grab some food for both of them.

A platter of crisp yak bacon and steaming griddle cakes rested on the counter, and Tuffnut recognized them as Heather's specialties. Had she actually snuck in to cook breakfast for them all? Did she even take any for herself? He hadn't noticed Fishlegs in the clubhouse either - maybe the two lovebirds were eating somewhere else, to avoid Dagur.

Tuff nearly collided with his groggily blinking twin in the doorway, whose face brightened up when she saw the food. "Alriiight, yak bacon! Thanks bro." Ruff took one of the plates from him brazenly, leaving him to snarl in frustration and go back for another.

He didn't fight it as hard as usual; he majorly owed her after all - though that didn't stop him from grumbling all the way back to the table with a second plate and returning her smug grin with an impudent raspberry.

He handed a full plate to Dagur, who flashed him a thankful grin, and just before he could sit, he found his intended chair suddenly and inexplicably filled by a _Jorgensen_.

"Don't hog the guy all to yourself, Tuffnut," Snotlout teased, "By now I'm sure he's starving for some intellectual conversation."

Tuff briefly debated smashing his own plate over his friend's stubborn head, but decided he'd rather eat the yak bacon and delicious cakes first. Scowling, he sat across from Snotlout beside his (entirely too amused) sister, and glared daggers at no-one in particular.

"Awww. Is someone feeling a little jealous?" Ruff needled him.

"Jealous? Of what exactly?" Tuff muttered, pouring berry syrup over his plate.

"You know. The guy that just stole a seat next to your heartthrob."

"What are you babbling about? Snotlout's probably right - I can't hog all Dagur's attention. It's probably good for the man to be getting showered with accolades anyway," Tuff shrugged.

Ruff arched an eyebrow. "Huh. So, you've either become remarkably well-adjusted and mature overnight, or you're as dense as a block of _granite_."

Tuffnut almost kicked her under the table for that - an act that would've resulted in a full out scuffle - but he refrained for the sake of his ribs. He did not want to catch a bony elbow anywhere on his tender sides.

"You're the one being dense," he hissed. "There's literally no reason for me to be jealous of anyone in this entire room." He started eating, drowning out Ruffnut's snickering with the sound of his own angry chewing.

Still, Tuff had to admit to himself - he was becoming annoyed. Accolades were one thing, but did Snotlout really have to _gush_ like that?

"You were so awesome in that shipyard! You moved so fast - like _lightning_ \- both you and your Gronckle! And your aim with those _knives_!"

Snotlout let out a fanboyish little squeak. Tuff rolled his eyes; it was like that thing with Thor Bonecrusher all over again.

"How did you even learn to do all that? Was it part of your training as a Berserker?"

Dagur smiled at him. "Oh, that? I taught myself. Years of grueling practice, and plenty of targets - all stationary, haha, of-of course!" He laughed nervously, at Hiccup's raised eyebrow. "Most of the time . . ." Dagur amended under his breath. Tuff couldn't help but smirk at him fondly.

"Oh my Thor, you should _teach_ me!" Snotlout put a hand on Dagur's arm.

Somewhere, very faintly and without reason, alarm bells started ringing in the back of Tuffnut's head. _No_ , he thought coldly, fingers clenching around his fork.

"Hmm. I suppose if I'm to stay here, I could give you a few pointers," Dagur shrugged.

_No no no no no -_

Tuff took a deep breath, and told himself sternly to stop flipping out. They were all friends here - why was he being so _weird_ about Snotlout wanting to hang out with Dagur? It didn't make any sense.

Shaking his head, Tuffnut resumed eating. At least, he _intended_ to, only to discover that the fork in his hand was now entirely unusable. As he stared in bewildered mortification at the bent cutlery, Ruff immediately went into a coughing fit beside him. It sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Tuffnut slipped the fork underneath the table, discreetly trying to force it back into shape so that he could prod her viciously in the leg.

"You alright?" Dagur asked her, concerned. Wheezing and red-faced, Ruffnut gave him a thumbs up.

Tuff saw Snotlout's hand was still on Dagur's forearm and had the sudden inexplicable urge to stab at that instead.

He hadn't struggled long with that intrusive thought before Ruff sat up, 'thoughtlessly' pushing her plate away from her and into Dagur's, which bumped into Snotlout's goblet of yak milk, sending it spilling all over the boy's lap.

Snotlout sprang up with a yell, furiously wiping at his pants. "Ruffnut!" He complained. "What was _that_ for?"

"Oops. Sorry, totally an accident," she assured him. "Might wanna go take care of that before it stains."

"Ugh, I _just_ washed these! You owe me a new pair of yak-leather pants if these shrink!" Snotlout stormed out, muttering to himself. It was clear why he was hurrying before anyone else saw him; the milk hadn't exactly landed in the most . . . flattering of places.

Dagur watched after him, gave Ruff a slightly amused look, and then got up. "Hey, brother? Can I talk to you alone for just a sec?"

Tuff waited for Hiccup to walk out of the clubhouse with Dagur, while Astrid carried her own plate to the kitchen. Then he glanced at his sister.

"Why did you do that?" he asked quietly, knowing full well it had been no accident. Not that he was ungrateful, weirdly enough.

"Because it would've looked way too obvious if you'd done it," Ruffnut answered cheekily, and gave one of his braids an affectionate yank. "Also? You're welcome."

She carried off her own empty plate, leaving her twin at the table - more confused and lost than he could ever remember being in his life.

Chicken wandered out from under the table, pecking hopefully for stray crumbs, and Tuff wordlessly handed down a piece of his griddle cake for her to consume.

"What's wrong with me, Chicken? Am I just going crazy? Dare I say even crazier?"

She clucked softly, consoling him as best as she knew how.

\-------

"So, slight change of plans," Hiccup was telling him, as they entered the stables. It hadn't taken long for Tuff to gather himself together, and Hiccup had been waiting for him just outside the Clubhouse. The sky was still faintly tinted red by the sunrise, and it was best to leave now if they wanted to make good time.

"You're still coming with me to Berk, but you're not lifting anything heavy and you're going to see Gothi. She'll determine what kind of chores you can do, if any."

Tuff nodded, surprised and honestly relieved. He knew better than to think he wouldn't get chores heaped on him as soon as he was fully healed, but this was still a nice reprieve. "I guess I was more injured than I realized," he offered sheepishly.

"Dagur sounded pretty worried about you," Hiccup agreed, and then gave Tuff an oddly searching look. "You two seem to be getting rather close."

"Close? Really? Like best friend close or surrogate sibling close?" Tuffnut asked.

This seemed to throw Hiccup off a bit. He shook his head, looking suddenly embarrassed. "Uh . . . nevermind. I already got the measurements for Shattermaster's wing, so we can leave as soon as we saddle up. Do you want to ride with me and Toothless, or on Skullcrusher?"

"Or you could ride with me. I'd like to go too." Heather had come up behind them noiselessly, emerging from Windshear's stall.

Hiccup spun to face her, the only boy who hadn't both jumped and screamed. Tuff was doubled-over panting, hand over his heart and other arm wrapped around his stinging ribs.

"H-Heather! You want to come to Berk as well?" Hiccup tried and failed to cover smoothly. His voice was just a little bit shrill. She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. I just can't stay here today. I'm glad Dagur’s okay, but I'm not . . . ready to talk to him yet. Fishlegs suggested I should go with you. Maybe being on Berk will help me calm down. Get my bearings."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. I'm not sure Dagur knows what to say to you either," Tuffnut blurted out. He withered slightly under Hiccup's glare. "Okay. So that came out kinda wrong - what I meant was . . . he wants to make amends with you as well, but he's not sure how."

Heather looked at him, surprised. "Dagur said that?"

"More or less. Either way, it's not like the man's going to chase you around the Edge and demand a hug or anything. He gets how upset you are."

The relief in Heather's eyes was tangible. "And nobody's going to try and guilt me into talking to him before I'm ready?"

"Only if that nobody wants two broken arms," Tuff scoffed. He smirked at her, and Heather smiled back, tension visibly leaving her body.

"You and Windshear are absolutely welcome to come to Berk with us if you'd like to," Hiccup offered warmly.

The dark-haired girl nodded. "I'll get her ready."

It was a good day for easy riding - all three dragons were able to catch an updraft and glide on the strong currents toward Berk. It meant the ride back might be just a little difficult, as they'd be flying against the same current, but getting to Berk only took until noon.

Tuff had elected to ride on Skullcrusher. The Rumblehorn had the most comfortable saddle, and Tuff reasoned it would look far more suspicious if he didn't take every opportunity to brazenly ride in the Chief's dragon.

Heather flew in closer to him and he glanced her way, noting her troubled expression.

"Oh hey, Heather! Is it too quiet and peaceful for you up here? Should I throw some over-the-top, flirtatious nonsense your way?" Tuffnut teased, trying to lighten her mood. It worked; Heather smirked and shook her head at him.

"I want to thank you, actually. And also, smack you for going through my things. And possibly shake you for taking such a huge risk and getting yourself injured for my brothers sake."

Tuff winced. "Yeah, I probably should have asked for this." He handed over Dagur's letter, still folded up in his vest pocket. Though Ruff had technically been the one to take it, he had been the one to use it. "I didn't because I thought it would -"

"Upset me, I know," Heather sighed, taking the letter. "And it would have. I guess stealing it was the kindest thing you could have done. Please at least promise me you won't take a risk like that again. You two like to say you've adopted me as your 'honorary sister', but that also means I adopted you too."

Wide-eyed, Tuffnut stared at her for a moment. "Uh, okay. I . . . promise?"

"A promise you'd better keep." Heather and Windshear flew ahead, but not before Tuff caught the smile tugging on her lips. "Jerkface," she called back.

He scoffed and sputtered in mock outrage, while Hiccup just laughed.

A few hours later, Berk spread out below them, trees just beginning to start their colorful turn towards fall. Skullcrusher let out a happy roar when he saw Stoick, and the Chief looked equally delighted to see him, waving him down to land.

Tuff leaned forward and fondly scratched the dragon's head. "Thanks again for finding him and saving both our butts," he murmured. "Still our little secret, right?"

Skullcrusher grumbled happily, and landed with surprising gentleness, so as not to jar him. While Stoick happily fussed over his errant friend, Tuff gingerly climbed out of the saddle and tried to edge away. Stoick noticed the way he was moving, seemingly without even looking up from Skullcrusher.

"Alright, let's hear it. How'd you hurt yourself?"

Tuff offered a sheepish grin. "By being reckless and irresponsible, and I'll never do it the same way twice?" he tried. Vague, but hopefully contrite enough.

"Hiccup?"

"Oh, just another magnificent prank gone wrong. I've already given them both a full lecture, plus a list of chores. That's why he came with us."

Stoick sighed. "Well, lad, you'd best have Gothi look at you first. If she says you're able, I believe Crone Yselda needs some wool carded. And your mother has her hands full lately, so I'm sure she'll appreciate some help tidying up the yard and the house."

He turned back to Hiccup, and Tuff breathed out a small sigh of relief. Stoick didn't seem suspicious in the least. He smiled when the Rumblehorn gave him a sly nudge.

"Now son, exactly where did you find Skullcrusher? Was he on your island? He wouldn't have flown back on his own unless something there was about to go wrong, like it nearly did with that tidal wave. Perhaps I should pay a visit and make sure -"

"No, no, everything's alright with us, Dad, I promise!" Hiccup hastened to reassure him. "Absolutely no need for a visit - you must be busy enough already."

Tuff and Heather exchanged glances. "We should leave this part to Hiccup," she murmured, tugging him toward Windshear. "I'll fly you up to Gothi."

Seeing no reason to insist upon using all those stairs, he gratefully followed


	7. Chapter 7

Ruff groaned irritably as she dunked the next dish into greasy, sudsy water. _It's not so bad, just a small pile left, then you don't have to even **think** about dishes until after dinner, _ she told herself _. You can do it._

It wasn't that the task was particularly hard, it was just unpleasant. Globs of oil skimming in the water's surface, damp drying towels, mysterious floating debris in the lukewarm cloudy water that bumped against her submerged hands . . .

She. Hated. Doing. Dishes.

It was even worse this morning, when the water couldn't seem to stay heated. Fishlegs' idea of dropping dragon-heated rocks into the tub was far better than waiting for a pot to boil over the fire, but it could use some fine tuning; those heated rocks hadn't lasted very long against the frigid temperature of the well water. The tub had barely stayed hot enough to allow Ruff scrub the bacon grease off the skillet. And now her sponge resembled a wet lump of black lard. Ugh, _gross_.

It was impossible to clean off the dishes any longer like this - maybe she could go out on the deck and summoned a dragon to give the water a friendly little blast. Ruff was already hearing the sound of big wings. Was that Hookfang?

She saw the big orange dragon and hurried to flag him down, nearly tripping over a box that someone had placed in the doorway. A box full of dishes . . . greasy, moldy, crusty dishes - even a scorched pot or two. Who had -

"Hi!"

Seething, she spun around on the owner of the voice.

"Hi, Snotlout!" Ruff greeted through her teeth, oozing with dangerously false sweetness. "What's all this?"

"Oh, well, Astrid told me earlier to grab all the hoarded plates us guys hadn't brought back to the kitchens so they could be cleaned."

"I believe she asked us all to do that a month ago." Ruff iced.

"Yep! And you know what? This morning, I _just_ _happened_ to remember."

Ohhh, she wanted to punch him right in his smug little face. Ruff hoped this meant his yak-pants were _ruined_.

"How did you even hoard this many dishes?!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up. Honestly, if the situation was any different, she'd be impressed.

Almost half the island's dishes and pots were in this freaking crate. All of them completely disgusting. She held up a soup pot so burnt that its bottom was bulging outwards, utterly mystified. "And how did they _get_ like this?!"

"They aren't all mine, I just took up a collection. You can thank Astrid for that particular masterpiece - I think it's one of her failed cooking experiments. Saw her trying to bury it behind her hut."

"And so you _unburied_ it?!" Ruff screeched in outrage.

"Pretty much. Enjoy! Whoooo! SNOTLOUT!" He hopped into Hookfang's saddle and they flew off, just barely dodging the furiously hurled cook pot.

Ruff let loose a long stream of decidedly unladylike invective.

She fumed at the box, wondering if she could just push it off the deck. Those dishes had been missing for a month - and maybe nobody would notice all the broken crockery on the rocky shore below?

That's how Dagur found her, trying to drag the entire thing toward the railing.

"Huh. Wow, those are some nasty dishes."

"Ack!" Caught in the act, Ruff straightened up to face him. "You saw nothing!"

"Hmmm, nope, pretty sure I saw something almost happen," he teased lightly. Seeing Ruff's crestfallen look, Dagur hastened to reassure her. "It's okay, I actually came to help you do dishes. I figured it isn't fair - you having to do them all alone, just because of me."

Ruff's eyes widened at that, then softened. "Awww, really? You came to help me?" Her smile faltered a bit when she looked back at the crate. "Ugh . . . even if we get the water hot again, it's gonna take all day to do those. And by then it'll be dinner time, which means even more dishes. You sure you don't wanna just look the other way while I chuck them all into the ocean?"

Dagur looked thoughtful, and then suddenly grinned. "Funny you should mention the ocean . . . I think I have an idea."

\---------

If there was anyone on Berk who Tuff knew not to push his luck with, Gothi was near the top of the list. The tribe's Völva had a gentle healing touch, but a mouthy patient usually wasn't above receiving a sturdy whack with her staff or even one of her dreaded ear-pinches.

Tuff kept his complaints to a minimum as Gothi's bony fingers pressed and prodded his bruised ribcage, though he couldn't help but squirm. She looked surprised when she found no breaks or dislocated ribs. Tuffnut almost blurted out that he'd already had the latter, but explaining _how_ they been fixed and by whom might cause some problems.

Once her examination was complete, Gothi motioned for him to put his vest and tunic back on and scribbled a message into the dirt. She then hooked one of Gobber's helmet horns with her staff and dragged him over to read it.

"Hey, now! You're awful _bossy_. Right, I know, you've got things to get on to, well so have I! Grump's going to eat everything in the forge if I don't hurry back."

Gothi looked up at him half-lidded, unimpressed.

"Alright, let's see - she says you'll need a hook - OWW! Sorry, **off** the hook, doing any heavy chores. And that it's a miracle you don't have anything broken, so try not to do anything stupid and reckless for at least three weeks. You'll have to breath very deeply several times a day to keep from getting ill. It'll hurt, but do it, because coughing when ye get sick will definitely hurt worse."

"Yeah, I hear that," Tuff winced at the very thought. Even sneezing sounded like agony.

Gothi smoothed the dirt with her foot and wrote something else.

"Aside from all that," Gobber translated, "Is there something you should be telling me?"

Tuff blinked, unable to stop the guilty look that crossed his face.

"Ahh. Thought so. Well out with it, then. What've you stolen, or broken, or --" Gobber looked down in surprise as Gothi gave him a light prod toward the door with her staff. She made a dismissive motion with her hand, as though shooing off a chicken.

With a shrug, and a glance at Tuff that suggested it had been nice knowing him, Gobber headed off to visit his hopefully still-standing forge.

Gothi looked at him sharply and drew something in the sand. All at once he realized that this had nothing to do with the fugitive Berserker they were hiding. Tuff stared at the crude arrow sketched in the dirt and swallowed hard.

"Did you dream about the arrows too?" he muttered, looking up at her. "A sky full of black glistening death?"

The Völva went a little pale at that and gripped her staff tighter, leaning against it. Okay, so maybe he'd been a little too dramatic there . . .

It was only a moment of weakness, for Gothi straightened up and nodded briskly at Tuff, patting his shoulder. She gestured for him to get up and go on his way.

"Wait, that's it? That's all you wanted? No details, theories, hypothesis - nothing? Just gracias, mi hijo, buenos dias?"

Gothi gave him a remarkably patient look and then nodded again, gesturing for him to leave. Tuff frowned, but obeyed. He knew he should be honored she even _believed_ him, but being simply dismissed afterwards was upsetting.

Maybe if he and Ruff had been trained officially in spae-craft under a Völva, it might have been different; his input would actually be valued. Either way, he didn't regret learning what he knew from his mother, even if it wasn't considered 'good' magic.

"Hey," Heather greeted him, on the landing with Windshear. "Gobber just told me you're excused from hard labor, which I thought would be good news. So what's with that expression?"

"Eh. It's nothing," Tuff shrugged. "Guess I better go see Mom. Wonder what the Chief meant by her having her hands full?"

"It's nearing harvest season. Are any other members of your family helping out with that?"

He thought about it, and shook his head. "No, Uncle Sven and Cousin Lars have their own fields. Other than the kitchen garden, we have more chickens than crops, so mostly we sell eggs."

Tuff brightened a little. "I'll get to see how Mom's little chickens are doing. Maybe there was a hatching recently. Oh, Heather, I hope it's so - you haven't lived until you've held a soft fluffy little peeper in your hands."

Heather smiled as they walked together toward the Thorston home. "That sounds nice. My village used to have chickens and every morning I'd collect the eggs from my family's coop. I learned to leave the brooding ones alone pretty quickly."

"Too true, Heather. Those proud little mothers certainly know how to bite." Tuff smiled at her until he noticed the melancholy look that passed over his friend's face. She'd been doing better until he'd found Dagur, with the whole missing her family thing. Tuff sighed softly; she and her brother _needed_ to talk.

Both siblings seemed to be holding back information that could help them understand what had happened - with Oswald, with her village. Until Heather felt ready to relive that pain again, she wasn't going to be able to listen, and Dagur wasn't going to make her.

"Have you ever had a rune-reading?" Tuff blurted, startling Heather out of her thoughts. "Just sat yourself down with a nice aromatic cup of tea, while letting someone sing to the Norns and spirits to find all the hidden answers? It can be very motivating. Maybe even soothing, for a _lost_ _troubled_ _soul_ such as yourself."

"Tuffnut, I'm not a 'lost troubled soul'."

"Aren't you?" he asked dramatically, raising one eyebrow. As Heather stared at him flatly, he waggled them ridiculously until she started laughing. He joined in, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked.

"Seriously though, you should let my Mom do a reading for you. She's pretty good, and it won't even cost you money. I'll work something out with her." Heather looked a little unsure but Tuff just grinned. "It'll be okay. You could even ask about future loooove. You and Fishy, sittin' in a creek . . . Wait, no, that's not how that goes."

She blushed, but looked a bit more relaxed at that. "You know what, sure. Maybe it could be fun."

"There we go! That way you won't be bored while I help Mom with whatever she needs help with."

Heather nodded and leaned into his one armed embrace. "You and your family seem pretty close," she noted.

Tuffnut shrugged, thinking of who else was waiting at home. "Eh. Most of us. A little more than half at least." His father would be asleep at midday, drunk asleep by the fire in his chair. There shouldn't be any trouble with him while Heather was over.

One could always, _always_ hope.

\---------------

“You ready?” Dagur asked, balancing carefully on Belch’s neck. The Zippleback had agreed to let him ride, though it had taken several mackerel (Belch’s favorite) to warm him to the idea. To be fair, the Berserker and the two-headed dragon did have a rather _unpleasant_ history and Zipplebacks never forgot.

Ruff beamed at him, and eagerly twined the rope around her arm to make sure their load was even. “I was **born** ready for this!” she crowed.

Dagur grinned back at her and the two of them urged their dragon to swoop down over the ocean, hovering purposefully too close to a breaching Scauldron. It ignored them for a while, but as they persisted to trail it, the Scauldron lifted its head above the water and glowered at them balefully, cheeks puffing out.

Ruff and Dagur dropped their cargo directly in the path of boiling spray, letting the rope go slack as they flew up out of the way. The blast hit the net full of soiled crockery full on. Ruffnut whooped as she saw the dirt, sludge and grease run off the dishes and pots, splattering into the ocean.

“Oh, that is nasty!” laughed Dagur. “I can’t believe they were going to make you clean all that by yourself!”

“Hey, if I get to do it this way?! I want to do dishes all the time! Sign me up!” Ruffnut blew a fond kiss at the Scauldron, which grumbled at them now that they were out of range. She reached back to the saddlebag behind her and pulled out a salmon, tossing it down to the Scauldron. The water-dragon caught it, and swallowed the fish whole. It looked up at them expectantly, waiting for more.

“Hey there, pretty boy! Can you do me one more solid and fire some hot water again?” Ruff asked sweetly. “There’s more salmon in it for you!” The Scauldron made a curious sound but didn’t seem averse to getting more fish, lazily treading its tail through the water as it waited.

Ruffnut shook something over the net – a powder made from dried soap flakes and soda ash. “My mom uses this stuff when she needs to get something really clean. It’s been passed down through the Nut family,” she explained to Dagur.

“Neat! I’d like to meet your family someday.”

“You’d want to meet roughly half my family,” Ruffnut smirked. “The half that isn’t all _jerks_.”

She again blew kisses at the Scauldron, thinking of the one she’d met and helped so long ago. It obligingly sucked up some more water and blasted the boiling liquid directly at the net, causing even more sludge and slime to dribble out.

“Alright! Here you go, scale-baby!” Ruff called lovingly, and tossed another couple salmon down.

The Scauldron snapped them up and turned to swim off with its prize. She made sure to save some for Barf and Belch, who were obviously getting jealous of the strange dragon.

On the way back to the island they dipped the net into the ocean and dragged it through the currents to fully rinse everything. “If all that doesn’t get these clean, nothing will,” Dagur shrugged.

Sure enough, the dishes were all but sparkling in the sun as they flew high enough to pull them out of the water. Ruff let out another whoop of victory. “Best. Chore. Ever!”

Dagur smiled at her, impressed. “You’re really good at training Scauldrons.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t train him. We just did each other a favor. One time Tuff befriended a Typhoomerang just by yakking at it. It ended up saving our butts from a forest fire, but didn’t stick around. I don’t know how he does it – he just talks and talks and somehow dragons like him enough not to eat him. I just make sure to always have lots of fish on hand.”

“True. Never met a dragon who doesn’t love fish.”

“Well, we have! It's called the Whispering Death. Those things don’t like anything. Tuff’s impossibly in love with them – I can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve had to drag him away from trying to hug one.” Ruffnut gave an exaggerated sigh. “Thank Loki he’s moved on to chickens. I can handle chickens.”

Dagur smiled, shaking his head fondly. “I’m glad you two get along so well.”

“We don’t _all_ the time, but I get what you mean. After we put the dishes away, there’s a few hours before dinner. Wanna check out our boar pit?”

The Berserker perked up. “You guys have a boar pit!? Uh, _yeah_ I want to check it out!”

Ruff cackled in delight as they flew back to the Clubhouse. “This is gonna be awesome!”

\-----------

Tuff must have missed her more than he realized, for the moment he saw that familiar shape clad in vivid colors, he quickened his step.

His mother was a broad-shouldered woman who seemed to like wearing the brightest of colors - if only to flaunt that she could easily make her own dyes and dress like the noble woman she wasn't. Her rainbow rags cheapened the otherwise expensive indigos, reds, and purples that upper class families preferred, especially when worn for doing laundry in the front yard.

The outrage seemed to amuse Madge Thorston greatly; anytime Tuff had seen villagers openly scorn her clothing in the market square, she had stood up straight and laughed for an uncomfortable length of time in their faces.

His mother was proud, brave, and strong. Nothing could bring her down, make her submit, or stop her from doing exactly as she pleased.

Well, maybe except for her husband.

That explained why she was out in the yard even past noon, face and hands reddened from the cold and scrubbing linens across a board. Tuff grinned at her as she looked up, expression changing from annoyance to surprise as she recognized her son.

"Oh!" Madge dropped the sheet back into the pail and scooped Tuff up in a bear hug as though he weighed no more than a straw. "Ha! My scrawny son has come home! I'd half-thought you were Mrs. Nygenskar, back to pester me about her damned missing chickens."

She promptly pinched Tuff's ear between finger and thumb, causing him to yowl. "A good thing you weren't, because then I really _would_ have popped you one. Why'd you have to be so terrible at stealing, getting caught all the time? Now everyone thinks we're thieves. _Thieves_!"

Heather glanced over at a full milk pail that had the Hofferson crest carved on its side and bit her lip.

"Well, Mom, we sort of - I mean, that's our _thing_. 'The family that nicks together, sticks together.' It's our motto," Tuff answered.

His mother let him go. "Stick out your tongue," Madge said sharply. Tuff groaned but obeyed, and she flicked it hard enough to make him cringe. " _That's_ for having loose lips in front of a new face."

"Oh, uh, my name's Heather," the 'new face' ventured. Madge turned to look at her appraisingly. "Your son was telling me you did rune-readings?" Heather glanced at Tuff for help. He rather unhelpfully gave her a thumbs up.

"Hmm. You came for a reading, did you? Having some trouble with a certain family member?"

"Um, yes- how did you know?" Heather stammered, shocked.

"The Nut knows, my dear. Also, I've seen the same look on my daughter's face since the pair of them were born. Your brother has you at wits end just by being near, and on top of all that there's a whole different mess to sort out. Very well, there's time for tea and a reading. How much coin can you bear to part with?"

Yep. Blunt and to the point. That was Mom at her finest.

"Actually, since Heather's technically adopted family, I was thinking I could pay for her first time," Tuff interjected, coming to his friend's rescue.

Madge raised an eyebrow, thinking for a long moment. "Fine. You've done well enough making effective staves(1), so I'll have three more. One for the chicken coop against predators and thieves. Then I want two new ones for the house, one to ward against financial ruin. Another against violence.

"Carve the two into beams upstairs, but don't wake your father. I'll not have him running his mouth off at anyone else today."

Her words were sharp, but Tuff could easily hear the affection in them. "Okay, I can do that, Mom." He darted forward to hug her, and was pleased when she rested her hand on his head.

"Good, now get to it." Madge swatted the small of his back as he ran toward the house. Tuff heard her turn to Heather, who was waiting nervously. "Now my dear, do you like your tea sweet or spicy?"  
  
Yeah, she was in good hands. Tuff knew he'd have at least an hour to carve the staves and sneak some stored bedding and clothing out the window. Hardsell would sleep through everything and he probably wouldn't even have to talk to him.

He carefully pushed open the door, only halfway before the hinges would squeak, and slipped inside, just as carefully easing it closed.

A thick hand palmed the door, just over Tuff's head, shoving it closed with a solid thunk.

Tuffnut froze as breath touched the back of his neck and he failed to register the usual snores by the fireplace.

"Welcome home," Hardsell said flatly, looking anything but pleased.

Tuff turned his back to the door and grinned as brightly as he could manage. "Hey, Pop. How've you been? I see you got your beard trimmed a few months ago. Looks good. Real good." Tuffnut's grin was strained but genuine, and his clasped hands were the only sign he was inwardly screaming.

Hardsell gave a snort and gripped the back of Tuff's neck, steering the boy toward the fireplace and the chairs that sat next to it. "Sit."

It wasn't a request.

Tuff stifled his dread and obeyed, heart pounding a little fast. Only two things could ever get Hardsell to stand up of his own volition: Needing to refill his mead mug and 'putting people in their place.' Usually with a fist or well-aimed kick. Cutting words were also a given.

Gods, no wonder his mother was outside. Probably spending her nights in the warm family bath-house too.

"For whatever reason, you're loose in Berk. Without your sister. I take it she isn't involved in whatever disaster you plan to cause. Definitely the smarter twin."

"Oh, definitely - most definitely -" Tuff agreed, and because his anger was faster than his logic, he eased right into sass mode. "By the way, excellent job coherently stringing together more than three words - you must have switched to the alcohol-free mead."

Hardsell chuckled at him, humorlessly. Then he flung the contents of his mug into Tuffnut's face.

Tuff yelped in pain and wiped at his smarting eyes. The liquid stung terribly, but not like mead . . .

"That's vinegar, boy. Gothi's prescription for a failing liver is apparently to drink vinegar. One mug of tea in the morning, then the rest of the day and night -"

Hardsell looked at his mug and paused for too long. Tuffnut considered getting out of his chair and hiding beneath it, but of course he moved far too late.

The heavy mug hit him as he flinched down, shattering against the back of his chair. Tuff yelped as the ceramic shards flew everywhere, piercing skin and scattering unpleasantly across the wooden floor. He remained seated, trembling as his father loomed over him.

"As I said. Vinegar. Made from last year's apple harvest, I believe. It doesn't taste very good, but my mind has never been clearer. Your old man is going to be changing this family's fortune, boyo. Starting with you."

"Me?" Tuffnut asked, raising an eyebrow. He was terrified already, but he refused to give his father the satisfaction of admitting that. "Ah, I get it! This is another one of your inspiring 'get a job' lectures. That's okay, because I'm actually _already_ employed as a Dragon-Rider of Berk. I personally don't think I can do any better, but I'm so flattered _you_ do. I'll keep that forever in my heart. Now if you'll excuse me -"

Tuff's attempt to leave was met with a cuff to the head and he was all but thrown back into the chair. "Stay seated, I'm not done."

Well, this was just fantastic. The youth obeyed and remained quiet as Hardsell continued. Nervous fingers tapped against the frame of the seat and he hoped the man couldn't hear them.

"Your sister will bring the family money in her own way - by means of her marriage. Though she's proven too ugly to capture the attention of Chief Stoick's son, there are plenty of rich men looking for a younger bride to keep them warm this coming winter."

Tuffnut's fingers curled into fists. He hated when Hardsell insulted Ruff - especially because he only did it when she wasn't here. Cowardly didn't describe half of it.

As for forcibly marrying her off? Yeah, sure, good luck to the poor idiot that agreed to be her groom. Had Hardsell forgotten they had dragons? They could fly away from anything he threatened. Still though, incredibly uncool. Tuff held his tongue, aware he was being provoked. Hardsell took another drink and once more focused on Tuffnut.

"But _you_ . . . you'll never amount to anything. You've no future. Why waste money on a bride for you? Would you even know what to do with one?"

Ah, the classic narrow-minded insults about his manliness he'd come to expect.

Tuff snorted, almost amused at the predictability. He didn't take the bait, putting on an air of boredom. Small beads of blood were still sliding down his face, turning gradually into streaks and stains. He focused on the little cuts on his face, absently picking out bits of debris from the shattered mug.

"Your cousin Lars - now there's a boy deserving of a girl. So we'll trade _you_ for one. There was a visitor from afar who visited one of our family elders. Seems he's in search for a boy, about your size and build, with long blond hair and a Berkian accent. Seems this 'boy' owes some of his men quite a bit of gambling money."

Hardsell glowered at Tuff, who just shrugged. "I don't owe money to anyone. And I'd never gamble anything if there was a chance of losing. I'm not that stupid. If I was, Ruffnut wouldn't let me be."

"Hmm. Well, he's willing to do a trade anyhow. The boy in question's _whereabouts_ , for one of his men's eligible daughters to marry your cousin."

Uneasily, Tuffnut looked up. "Why exactly would he want this 'boy'? I mean, if he's owed money, wouldn't it make more sense to just ask for a dowry?"

"Oh, we didn't pry. It's a good enough trade for me. He can decide how useful you'd be when you're his. You know what they say, boy; one man's garbage is another man's gold."

Okay, that had _hurt_. Tuff glowered. "That's it, I'm not buying it anymore. There's no possible way the family can sell me or trade me - to anybody - if I don't want to go. I'm a Dragon-Rider; I help defend Berk - you can't just send me away like I'm worth nothing!"

"You're only worth nothing to _me_ , boyo. But you must be worth quite a bit to the men you owe all that gold to."

"I told you I haven't been gambling! They aren't after me!"

"Who else would make such trouble? Was it your sister, then? Perhaps you'd prefer to blame that older, more successful cousin of yours -"

Tuff scowled, growing angrier. "Don't you even try to bring Ruff or _any_ of my totally awesome cousins into this - they're completely innocent! Lars, on the other hand . . ."

Hardsell cuffed him again, making Tuff flinch down and cover his head. "You bite your lying tongue - Lars is the son I _wish_ I'd had."

Tuffnut growled in frustrated anger, his emotions finally getting the better of him.

"Oh, _poor you_ , you got me and Ruff! So _sad_! Not like you did any work to raise us anyway - you just sat there and drank for twenty years! And now - all because someone cared enough to finally force you to quit - you're in a bad mood and you're taking it out on me and Ruff, and even Mom! Your crappy liver is not my fault!"

"Really? Isn't it?" Hardsell snarled. He gripped Tuff's bleeding face harshly, thumb smearing across a cut. "Maybe letting such a disappointment live after it was born and not exposing it to the bitter cold is the _reason_ I started drinking in the _first place_!"

Tuff lost his defiant sneer and simply crumbled, devastated. He glared through it, trying to will away the hot tears filling his eyes.

His father was full of shit; there was no way he'd actually go through with this or that the family was planning to. Hardsell was simply trying to hurt him, as usual.

Well, he'd fucking succeeded.

Even now, the man was watching him carefully for a reaction, so obviously itching for a reason - any reason - to hurt Tuff even further. The youth decided not to give him one and simply got up, pushing past the bigger man to go upstairs, to the loft where he and his sister used to sleep.

Hardsell said nothing, save for chuckling and sitting back down.

Somehow that hurt even worse.

Tuffnut took a few moments to get his head together, and gripped the dragon-toothed necklace around his throat. It was times like these he really missed having his sister with him. She would have known the exact thing to say to make that jerk pucker his lips shut.

After a few deep breaths, he took a knife out of his pocket and began to carve a stave into the beam above the stairs. His hands were shaking badly; he nearly cut himself twice and once almost dropped the knife entirely.

Still, he managed to carve the first - a protection circle with symbols warding off ruin. He began to make four marks within the circle - one for every member of their family. Mom, Ruffnut, himself, and . . .

The tip of the blade was digging into the wood, ready to make the mark for his father, but Tuffnut was unwilling to commit to it. A bead of red blood dripped into his eye and he wiped it away, staring at the smear of red on his fingers.

Bright red, just like . . .

There was the memory of warm arms around him, of kind words and a sincere smile.

Tuff's eyes spill over suddenly and with no warning. He refused to make one sound of misery, instead carving the fourth mark.

Not for Hardsell, but for _Dagur_.

Let the house and land wights and all the Gods protect _Dagur_ from evil; his father could be ripped to pieces by a draugr for all he cared. Or better yet, a hill-lurking troll. Ooh, or drowned by a nokken under the ice floes - yeah, that would be fine by him. He couldn't imagine his twin being all that upset either.

Tuffnut carved the second stave his mother had asked for, against violence. It was exactly the same - he made the fourth mark on Dagur's behalf and left Hardsell unprotected.

Though Odin Allfather may frown on him for his lack of duty toward his father, Tuff knew in his heart that Loki was standing just behind Odin's throne, giving him a sly grin and a thumbs up.

He put the knife away and wiped furiously across his eyes, hitching quietly as he entered the empty bedroom. Tuffnut would need bedding and a pillow and shirts. He went to the far end of the room and opened a cedar chest.

The nicest shirt he found that would fit Dagur's frame - dark blue linen and seldom worn - was rolled up and hidden in a goose-down quilt his grandmother had sewn.

It didn't matter who it used to belong to. As far as Tuff was concerned, it was Dagur's now.

Tuff also stuffed a pillow and a fur-lined brown vest into the roll; surely his erstwhile roommate would appreciate the additional warmth. He found a set of his grandfather's throwing knives as well, and stuffed the leather-wrapped bundle into his belt. Hardsell would eventually know they were missing, but Tuffnut refused to give him the chance to sell them.

He climbed out the window and onto the roof, letting the rolled goods gently tumble down to rest over the frame of the chicken hut below. Tuffnut eased himself down as quietly as he could, knowing Hardsell might see him out the kitchen window.

He couldn't risk it. With the sour mood his father was in, he wanted no further encounters - not today, at least. Tuffnut watched the window warily for signs of movement within, and relaxed when nothing in darkness stirred. Probably sucking down another mug of vinegar by the fire.

Might as well do the last stave then; it'd be quicker than the others. Tuffnut pulled out his knife and made short work of it, scratching a mark for everyone of his mother's six (no, wait, _nine_?) chickens.

One of the hens burbled at him while he worked and Tuff smiled at her. He clucked back and was reaching in to stroke her white feathers when she flapped her wings in sudden alarm. Tuffnut had no time to react as a hand seized the back of his neck and pulled him away from the coop.

For a moment he strangled on the leather cord of his necklace, oddly afraid it would snap, then gasped as he was shoved down to hit the hard packed earth. Tuffnut's ribs started screaming and he gave an abortive moan, curling around them.

He didn't bother looking up at his attacker. He didn't need to.

The bed roll was dropped in the dirt beside him and shaken open, all the goods falling out. Hardsell, pulled out the blue shirt. "Hmm. A gift from your mother to me, when we first met. She dyed it herself."

He tossed it back on the pile as though it meant little; no, the reason he cared at all was because it was _his_ and Tuffnut had attempted to steal it. That was reason enough for Hardsell to continue, but he also went for Tuff's belt, pulling away the throwing knives. "And these were my father-in-law's. I'd wondered where they'd gotten to."

If Hardsell was trying to make Tuff ashamed and submissive, he was barking up the wrong tree. That ship had already sailed.

"Oh, I can tell you that. It got thrown carelessly in a trunk upstairs, during all those years you held down a chair in front of the fire, drunk out of your mind," Tuffnut sneered.

A pair of hands gripped Tuff's upper arms, hauling him to his feet, and giving him a rough shake. "This isn't something you'd steal for yourself. That shirt wouldn't fit you, or even the Ingerman boy. You're _hiding_ something."

Tuff winced but remained defiant. "Nope, I was just going to cut it up into rags. The outhouse on the Edge is all out of good paper."

"Lying spawn of Loki." One of those hands began to twist Tuff's arm, putting strain on his shoulder. "The vest, the shirt, the knives . . . even the extra bedding. They're for someone. Who?"

Tuffnut whined as his shoulder started to genuinely hurt.

"Let go-" he gritted out, taking back every wish he'd ever made that his father would stop being a drunken unmoving lump and do something. In retrospect, being a drunken lump was preferable to _this_.

Hardsell only continued, with calm purpose. Was it the mead that had kept him calm for so long? All this time, had it been merely _dulling_ the man's hatred of him?

Tuff's shoulder burned with pain and he couldn't help the sobbing plea that tore past his lips.

\-------

Madge had helped. She really had.

Not so much with casting the runes and telling her the secrets of the Norns - though that was helpful too if you really believed in that sort of thing. Rather, the Thorston matriarch had a level head, a wise outlook on life . . . and lots and lots of experience when it came to talking to estranged family members.

If Heather could boil down the whole experience to one phrase, it would be that seeking out the truth is far more cathartic than blind forgiveness could ever hope to be.

"Usually," Madge had said, blowing across her teacup, "You'll end up mad at yourself for not asking the truth sooner. You deserve to know it, certainly. Your brother deserves to be given the chance to tell you. There are reasons he did what he did, not excuses - but reasons.

"I think it's worth noticing that he's never once begged to explain away his actions. He knows what he ended up doing was wrong, no matter what information he was or wasn't told."

A strange statement, but Heather hadn't had time to ask anything further; a neighbor had showed up unannounced to argue over something missing. From the sound of the raised voices, it was going to take a while. After twenty minutes of waiting, she'd set down her tea and walked politely away, heading toward the house to see if Tuff was finished yet.

When the front door did not open, she walked around to the chicken yard.

For half a moment, Heather stood there utterly frozen in shock.

Seconds later, she was bending back two of the man's fingers - forcing him to let go of Tuffnut. She used the grip on Hardsell to spin him and twist the man's arm against his back, slamming him into the wall of the coop.

"Don't. Move," Heather hissed, beyond incensed. Her axe's edge pressed against his jugular. She didn't know or really care who this stranger was, but he was no doubt responsible for the blood and marks she saw on her friend's body.

"Tuff, grab your things, okay?"

"Yeah," came the ragged answer. "H-Hold on." Tuffnut managed to kneel, gathering up the scattered items and re-rolling them. He stood with difficulty, and bundled it under his arm. She saw him looking helplessly at a smaller wrapped parcel of leather further away on the ground.

"I got it." Heather let go of Hardsell to snatch it up, never looking away from the dark-haired man, who glowered right back. He didn't keep it up, eventually lowering his eyes from her piercing glare. "Keep walking, Tuffnut."

Heather didn't sheathe her axe and kept looking over her shoulder until they came around to where she'd last seen Madge. After one look at them, the woman turned from her argumentative neighbor mid-sentence and moved swiftly toward her son.

Mrs. Nygenskar took a long gander over the apparent situation and walked away, obviously finding gossip more valuable than her chickens.

"I may actually kill him this time," Madge murmured, looking him over. Tuff swallowed hard and fell into the woman's arms, dropping the roll to hug her tightly.

"Stay somewhere else for a while?" he begged. "I think Pop's gone insane."

Heather felt her stomach twist. Part of her had suspected, but hearing it confirmed was still awful.

"Tch. Why would I leave my house? I can handle him. Hardsell doesn't raise a hand to me, and . . . Gods, I'm _sorry_ , boyo. I thought he'd be hard asleep." Madge sighed and dipped a rag into the bucket of clean rinse water, gently dabbing at the cuts on Tuff's face. "You don't worry for another second on me; get back to that base of yours before dark. Let the grown-ups handle all of this."

Tuffnut hitched and looked up at his mother imploringly. The desperate worry on his face made Heather's chest hurt.

"Neither of us want to leave you in any danger," Heather supplied for him. She still had yet to sheathe her axe. That was how much Hardsell had alarmed _her_.

"Oh, I won't be. I'm fixing to kick him out for a couple nights. Let him miss the fire's warmth and sleep on the benches in the Great Hall. I'm sorry he laid hands on you. I promise it won't happen again - he'll be on good behavior by the time you both visit for Snoggletogg."

Tuff nodded, smiling ruefully. Heather wondered how many times he'd heard that same promise and her heart ached for her friend. She put an arm around Tuff's shoulders and finally put away her axe.

"You two have a safe journey back. Don't cause more trouble than you can handle, and tell your sister the same. Give her a hug from me, whether she wants it or not. Heather, I hope our short time together was helpful."

"It was . . . thank you." _And please be safe_. Heather returned Madge's smile and turned, wordlessly coaxing Tuffnut to walk beside her. They would go to Gobber's forge and see if Hiccup was anywhere near done with the wing prosthetic.

Tuffnut was quiet for a moment as they walked, occasionally shivering. Heather was inwardly panicking, not having any idea what to say, but her friend solved that for her.

"You, uh . . . you remember that time we blew up that ship together?" he asked, lightly jostling her shoulder. "That was fun, huh?"

She looked confused, then realized he was changing the subject. "Yeah, it was - Tuff, should we take you to see Gothi? Is your shoulder -"

Tuffnut pulled away from her questing hands and rolled his shoulder, forcing it back in with a small crunch. The resigned pain on his face showed Heather he was far too used to this. "It hurts more when other people put it back in," he explained, not meeting her eyes.

Heather gazed at him, understanding, and drew him into a hug. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. Just know that I'm always here if you do."

Tuff made a small weak noise, face muffled in her hair, but he didn't push her away. "Okay," he whispered shakily. She let him go and he raised his face, expression worryingly blank as he fought back tears. "We should find Hiccup. I think I've had enough of Berk for one day." Tuff tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a dry sob.

Heather linked her arm with his, and walked with him in silence to Gobber's forge.

 

  
\- Tbc

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) Staves are sigils - in Norse magic, a passed-down or self-designed symbol that is made for a purpose. There are staves for binding prisoners, staves against getting lost, or drowning - even staves for picking locks! Madge has taught the Twins all her own staves, passed down through the Nutt family, and how to make their own. 
> 
> Here is a link for further examples and information: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icelandic_magical_staves


	8. Chapter 8

Berk’s forge was ablaze with activity. Literally.

Grump was waddling excitedly after several rolling fiery shields his tail had wiped off the work-counter. Gobber was half-pleading with Grump not to eat them, while trying to beat out the rest of the flames with his leather work apron.

Over the din, Hiccup was entirely in his own world, giving a mostly unprompted explanation of how the wing-prosthetic would work to an impatient-looking Heather.

“It straps on across Shattermaster’s front, like so - since Gronckles use a great deal of their chest muscles to fly. That should take some of the strain off his wings and make him not have to beat them so hard - at least while he’s healing.”

“I’m absolutely sure it will work. Hiccup -”

“The best part is Dagur won’t have to learn anything new - it’s completely rider-independent and tailored for Shattermaster. Which I’m pretty sure Dagur would want for him anyway.”

“That’s great, but we should probably -”

“Oh, I know, it doesn’t look nearly as fancy as Toothless’ fin, but I can customize it later after I see if it works.” Hiccup turned from her to get better light from the forge, so he could fiddle with the rivets. “For now it’s just a prototype to see if I got the measurements right.”

Heather growled, sounding at the end of her patience, and all but stomped after him as he went further into the building toward his work desk.

Tuffnut normally would be enjoying all this chaos and consternation with more than a few dry comments, but instead he felt strangely numb and out of place. Not wishing to stand around any longer, he retreated to just outside the forge where he sat down in the grass next to a bored-looking Night Fury.

The dragon opened one eye, glancing his way suspiciously. A veteran of many pranks, Toothless had learned to be wary whenever a Thorston Twin sat this close to him. However, when Tuff didn't move or even acknowledge him, Toothless gave a questioning trill of concern and gently nose-butted his arm.

"Oh. Hey. Sorry, T," the youth muttered, and absently stroked the top of Toothless' head. "Just tired, I guess."

Another trill followed, not sounding any less concerned than the first one. Before Toothless could plop his big head down in Tuff's lap (convinced that allowing himself to be pet could cheer anyone up), a peg-leg and sturdy boot came to stand directly in front of them.

Tuffnut glanced up at Gobber, who stood there nonchalantly brushing the soot off one of the charred shields.

"I tell Stoick every day and I'll tell him again tonight - I have got to have a bigger forge! There's no room for either man or dragon to turn around sundial-wise in there by themselves, let alone the both of us!" He tossed the shield aside, where Grump would likely swallow it whole later; it was too ruined to sell now anyway.

"So, lad, how's your mum holding up?" Gobber asked, easily enough. He looked the boy over, brows already furrowed in concern for him without Tuff having to say a word. "And, uh, does your father perhaps need anything?"

"Yeah. Another mug to hold his vinegar," Tuff replied wryly.

“I can see that, since you appear to be wearing pieces of the old one."

Gobber knelt on his good leg and switched out the hammer on his prosthetic hand for a thick piece of round glass framed by a metal ring. Using it as a magnifier, he gingerly plucked out a few tiny shards of ceramic from Tuff's cheek that Madge had missed earlier. "Well, I’m fresh out of mugs, but I’m sure I can swing him a right hook to the face. With an actual hook."

He gave Gobber a wan smile. "Sure, just put it on his tab.” All humor aside, Tuff bit his lip as worried thoughts chased through his mind. “He hasn’t been hitting Mom. . . right?"

"She's been insisting he hasn't, but we'll be watching for it. Your father has been acting strange since he left off the mead, but he wasn't ever so violent before. Stoick and I . . . we didn't ever expect him to attack you like this, lad.”

To be fair, Tuff hadn’t either - but how had Gobber known about what happened already? Tuff opened his mouth to ask, then realization hit. "Ugh. Mrs. Nygenskar?" he guessed.

"Aye. Who told Mrs. Ack, who told Mrs. Hofferson, who told Spitelout, and finally who told Mr. Ingerman, right in front of me."

Groaning, Tuffnut buried his face in his hands, then just as quickly lifted it back up. "Ow."

Gobber obligingly pulled the rest of the tiny shards from the boy's skin, trying his best to be gentle. "All that aside - I promise you, he won't be laying a hand on anyone else. Stoick and I will both be watching him closer than a pair of hungry Nadders."

Tuff was comforted by those words and after Gobber fished out one last splinter, he figured he should ask the blacksmith whether he knew more of what his father had been up to.

"Hey, have you heard of anyone named Krogan? He would have been someone who visited my family recently . . . on business?"

Gobber looked at him curiously. "Can't say that name rings any bells. What kind of business?"

"A marriage proposal, for cousin Lars. This Krogan guy, he said he wanted to trade one of his men’s girls for --"

Gobber's uproarious laughter cut Tuffnut off. "Lars Thorston?! Who in their right bloody mind would want to marry their daughter off to that cretin?"

Tuff snorted in agreement, deciding it wasn't really worth worrying about. Likely his father was just trying to scare him, just as he'd thought earlier. It was a bit of a relief, though it didn't make him feel any less crushed by his father’s harsh words and behavior.

Hiccup and Heather were suddenly at his side - the former looking him over more than a bit anxiously and with guilt in his eyes. Apparently Heather had finally managed to tell him what happened.

"Gobber, there you are! I got that wing framed and webbed, but I think we need to head home immediately - ah, that is, before it gets dark."

"Right, Hiccup, you should get this one home and to bed-rest," Gobber said, standing and gesturing to Tuffnut, who was still sitting by Toothless. The Night Fury had stealthily curled his tail around him, so the working fin brushed against his side.

It was almost a little embarrassing, being fussed over like this, but Tuff didn't argue. He felt adrift and desolate, despite the concern he could see in the eyes of his friends.

Growing up, he and Ruff had always only one of every rudimentary thing that they’d been forced to share all their lives. One blanket, one dish, one spoon . . . Had it been because Tuff’s birth was an unexpected drain on the family’s resources? Was that why his father despised him so?

To be fair, he hadn't even turned out to be a very good son. He cried too much, he was too sensitive, too weak, too tender-hearted. He may as well have been another daughter; at least that's what Lars had told him once. Then he could at least bring some extra money to his parents by marriage.

Maybe all he really was to the family was an unpleasant, unwelcome addition . . .

"Mind what Gothi said about the deep breathing," Gobber prompted, and belatedly, Tuff realized he'd missed his cue. He needed to stop worrying his friends over some pointless drama, and be his normal cheery self.

Tuff managed a shaky grin and got to his feet. “Yeah, I will, no worries. Even though if I get sick, it would be a lot easier to sneak up on Snotlout and disguise my voice all raspy and gravelly as a Hill-Troll’s.”

Toothless got up too, stretching his wings, tail and paws. Not easily fooled, he nuzzled against Tuff’s hand on his way over to Hiccup.

"Are you . . . Do you want to ride with me or Heather?” Hiccup asked. He had stopped himself from outright asking, but he still watched Tuff’s face searchingly.

Tuff just shrugged. Heather had saved him the trouble, already grabbing up the roll of bedding he’d taken from home.

"Ride with me, huh? There's more room on a Razor-whip." Even Windshear was looking worried as he obediently climbed into the silver dragon's saddle. Heather got on behind, putting her hands on his shoulders. She gave them a gentle squeeze and soon they were airborne, and flying home, to the Edge.

Heartsick, Tuff let his eyes drift closed, wishing they were there already.

\------

Ruff had been feeling tense, pensive, since she and Dagur had put away the clean dishes - filling the cob shelves with sparkling ceramic ware, spotless kettles, and flawless pots.

All except for one pot in particular, which she’d actually gone and tried to find after hurling it at Snotlout.

No, Ruffnut was going to mount that cracked and imploded catastrophe on the wall, on her side of the hut. Whenever "Perfect" Miss Astrid drove her crazy, all she'd have to do was gaze upon it and sigh contentedly. In time, it would become a prized mood-lifter for sure.

Right now though, it wasn't working. Something felt very wrong.

She had nervously pet Chicken's feathers until the little hen got bored and fluttered down to go foraging for bugs. Dagur was sitting on Tuff's bed, trying to sew the frayed edges of a quilt back together. He was obviously bored too, not able to fly Shattermaster, and the other Riders were all busy washing their dragons in the arena.

Ruff was pleased she didn't have to do anything of the sort; Barf and Belch had been splattered with sudsy warm water all morning. Washing a Zippleback was a pain anyway; Belch hated getting any part of his head wet and would nearly trample Tuff to death trying to escape, while Barf loved sticking his head into the bucket of water and creating nasty swamp-fart bubbles with his breath.

Basically, unless the twins tricked the dragons into falling off a cliff into ocean water, their Zippleback seldom - if ever - got a bath. And pretty much all four of them preferred it that way.

She got up from the table, glancing irritably out the window towards the sky. The sun was only just thinking of setting, and it would be hours yet before those glowing rims were out of sight past the mountains. That's when her brother, Hiccup and Heather would be on their last leg of the journey home.

Something about that had changed abruptly; Ruff’s intuition was insisting that they'd be coming back much sooner than expected. It was too trivial a thing to throw runes for, but she was concerned.

Ruff worried her lip, squinting hard to make out any shapes above the horizon. Her hand wrapped around her dragon-tooth necklace and gave it a squeeze, trying to send her brother feelings of reassurance.

A crash on the Twins' deck made Ruff groan and sure enough, there was Snotlout, atop his very disgruntled and recently-bathed dragon, who was clearly looking around for something gross to roll in. Snotlout was staring at her in some sort of fearful reverence, which was honestly a nice change.

"Oh. It’s you. Can I help you with something?" She iced, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. Ruffnut was still fairly displeased about his little 'gift' of extra dishes that morning.

"Uh, no. Just kind of wondering how in Odin’s name you got everything done before sundown?!?"

"A simple explanation, really. I used witchcraft. I'll be using those same powers to make your hut explode later tonight. While you're sleeping in it. Anything else?"

"Ha ha, hilarious," Snotlout deadpanned. (Though he did cast a very worried glance toward his hut.) "But yeah, while I'm here, I know you filched Hiccup's spyglass, so hand it over."

"Wow, that's a little rude," Dagur commented, sticking his head out of the doorway. "You don't know for sure she has it."

Ruff smirked, tempted to play along and also warmed by Dagur's standing up for her. She retrieved it from her trunk and tossed it to Snotlout. "It’s fine, Dagur. What do you need it for anyway?"

"Someone’s approaching the island, but way out. Astrid told me to get the spyglass."

Dagur raised his hand. "I have a question. Why is there only one spyglass on this entire island base?"

Snotlout shrugged. "They keep breaking. Or the twins steal them."

"Although, you'll notice the ones we steal aren’t the ones that wind up broken," Ruff supplied sweetly, inclining her head meaningfully towards Snotlout.

“Whatever,” the boy dismissed peevishly, peering through the glass. “Hey, I see something! Oh . . . “ Snotlout’s mouth curved up a smile and he cackled. “Ohhh, wow . . . hey, Fishlegs! I think you need to take a look at this!”

Astrid and Fishlegs joined them on their dragons, and the deck groaned. Ruff was beginning to have some serious concerns about the structural integrity of their hut’s deck and whether it could take everyone and their dragon standing on it.

"Stop your yakking already, and tell us what you see! Are they coming back early or not?" she snapped, certain she could feel the hut tilting a little too much to one side.

“Yeah it’s them. And Fishy’s girlfriend is totally cheating on him with your brother, of all people.”

“What - no she’s n - I don’t have a - Heather’s not officially my -” Fishlegs stammered, completely flummoxed.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’ve got that dead wrong, Snotlout,” Ruff commented dryly.

“They’re cuddling!” Snotlout crowed, ignoring them. “Heather and Tuffnut, sitting in a tree -”

Face red, Fishlegs snatched the spyglass away from Snotlout and peered through it. A second later, he whacked Snotlout upside the head with his free hand. “What are you even talking about, Snotlout? Heather isn’t cuddling anybody. She’s propping Tuff up because he’s . . . got dried blood? All over his face?”

Everyone stared at Fishlegs, who suddenly realized the danger of what he’d just blurted. He shrieked and tossed the spyglass at Ruff, who was already diving at him like a hawk.

It was a bad panicky throw and she of course missed it, tackling the luckless Fishlegs to the ground. Before the spyglass could share the same fate as its other shattered brethren, Dagur caught it smoothly.

He was about to look through it himself, but Ruff was already back on her feet next to him, hand outstretched for it, with an expression that brooked absolutely no argument.

Dagur immediately surrendered the spyglass.

What she saw confirmed her fears; not only had Tuff been injured, but her brother’s eyes were downcast, and he looked as though someone had ripped his heart out and tossed it into a garbage fire. Maybe drove in a few nails first for good measure.

Gods, she hated being right about this sort of thing - especially when she was too far away to make it better.

“Well?!” Astrid asked for all of them, clearly worried.

“Let’s go meet them,” she said, abruptly setting the spyglass down. “You too.” Ruff grabbed Dagur’s wrist and turned on her heel, actually starting to drag him after her to the stables and landing dock, much to his apparent surprise.

He didn’t resist though, matching her stride for stride.

\-----

For however short amount of time she'd been allotted with them, Heather had once had a loving family.

Her village had been peaceful, and everyone seemed to get along, sharing all they had no matter whose fishing net was full or empty. She’d grown up understanding kindness, love, affection . . . .

. . . and then, thanks to Dagur, she had grown older understanding pain, loss, and rage.

Finding out Dagur was her brother, and yet capable of harming her with so little remorse, had seriously messed with her head. He was supposed to be family, right?

Despite that, Dagur had still shown his protective side after she’d joined up with him and the Dragon Hunters. Whenever Ryker threatened her, Dagur had been always at the ready with teeth bared and no idle threat on his lips. Even though Ryker looked like he could take on men twice Dagur’s size without breaking a sweat, Dagur had (continuously) put himself at risk to stand up for her.

She'd managed to convince herself at the time that it was all sheer cockiness on his part, but she also couldn't deny the memory of her brother’s hands trembling slightly, clasped out of sight behind his back, each time he rushed in to defend her from Ryker’s suspicions.

Tuffnut's father was an unpleasant mystery to her. Heather wasn't sure if she'd ever forget how expressionless and uncaring his face had been, as though he hadn't been hurting his son but a stranger.

Had her friend lived with that all his life? He had seemed shaken afterwards, but not all that much. Worryingly, neither had Madge.

If Tuff seemed anything now, it was deeply exhausted. He hadn't spoken much aside from the occasional light hearted joke (which Heather hoped he knew fooled no-one), then unexpectedly fell asleep against her for a good portion of the journey.

She and Hiccup had decided not to wake him. They passed the time telling stories, or discussing better vantage points for watchtowers along the rocky shores north of the Edge. A couple times he offered to take Tuff, asking if her arms and shoulders were tired, but Heather shook her head, promising she was fine.

Windshear had rumbled, sounding as though she was chuckling. Heather knew her dragon was gently teasing her for being so protective, but she couldn’t help it, not after what she’d seen.

So she'd wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him upright against her chest, mindful of his ribs, and just let him snore softly against her for a while.

It was uncanny, with how deeply Tuff had been asleep, that once they barely came within sight of the Edge he lifted his head and muttered that they were almost home. It also startled Windshear apparently; the Razor-whip squawked and nearly lost the current she was gliding on.

“H-Hey, Tuff! You're awake!” Hiccup called, trying his best to sound cheerful. Toothless gave an affirming warble of greeting.

Tuffnut looked at him owlishly, clearly a bit out of sorts still, before sitting up in the saddle and stretching carefully. “Sorry, H, didn't mean to pass out on you guys. I miss anything?”

There was a brittle quality to his voice, one that worried her. She'd never heard him sound like this. “No, it's actually been pretty quiet. No wild dragons dive bombing us, no Hunters firing arrows -”

Tuff turned suddenly to look over his shoulder at her, eyes widening.

“Arrows. That reminds me. You all need to watch out for those arrows. You saw what one of those things did to Shattermaster's wing, right? Viggo’s gotta be using something way worse than dragon root to bring us all down.”

Heather had never heard him sound so serious. Or paranoid. Hiccup flew closer, peering worriedly at his friend's face.

“Yeah, okay, you definitely should be taking it easy as soon as we get back. I'm sorry I made you come with us.”

The trickster shrugged, offering up a good-natured grin. “It's okay. It was nice seeing Mom. What about you, Heather? Did my mom’s runes help at all?”

“They did. The talk we had was useful too. It definitely gave me some new things to think about,” she answered honestly.

“That’s good. I guess we both learned things today.”

Heather picked up a strange hollow ache in her friend's tone, one she didn't fully understand and didn't like.

The others were waiting for them at the landing dock - including Dagur. Heather stiffened but took a calming breath and tried to relax. He had a right to be waiting for them; this concerned his dragon after all.

Aside from that, she heard a sudden delighted intake of breath from Tuffnut, and the boy sat up, raising an arm to wave at both Dagur and his own sister. Well, that was definitely a relief - Tuff seemed like he was starting to bounce back from that awful encounter on Berk.

Ruffnut approached Windshear immediately as they landed, frowning in worry and all but yanking Tuff out of the saddle and into a tight hug. For a moment, the two said nothing, but they didn't really have to.

After a brief moment, Tuffnut rested his chin on her shoulder and Ruff’s arms tightened around him.

“I'm gonna kill him,” she snarled.

“Get in line, sis. I think his liver’s first.”

Tuffnut's tone was light hearted, though uneven. He pulled slightly away from Ruff to rub at his eyes, trying to be discreet. Heather dismounted from the saddle but before she could get closer, Dagur was suddenly right there, putting his hands on Tuff’s shoulders.

“Hey, what's with all the blood? Are you okay?” her brother asked, sounding worried.

For half a moment, Heather had to push back against the urge to tackle Dagur away from her friend and punch him unconscious. She held back, knowing it was unwarranted; Dagur was perhaps being a bit overly tactile, but that was normal for him. She couldn't mistake the kindness in his voice for anything else.

“Also you look exhausted and - where did you get all these?” His fingers lifted Tuff’s chin, gently turning his face so he could inspect the little cuts Hardsell had left.

A glance in Ruff’s direction showed the girl fuming at the horizon, in the direction of Berk, more lost in own her angry thoughts than in response to anything Dagur was doing. Tuff, meanwhile, was leaning into Dagur’s touch and actually starting to tremble.

“I'm fine,” he lied, smiling. “Really. I'm okay, I just need to lie down.”

Dagur shook his head, still looking him over with gentle touches. “No. You're not fine. It's okay to be not fine, Tuff.”

It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did when Tuff suddenly froze up, and immediately lowered his face to hide behind his hair.

She wasn't alone; at the first muffled sob, Hiccup abruptly trailed off mid-conversation with Astrid, and both turned to stare in alarm. Even Fishlegs and Snotlout fell silent in whatever argument they'd been having.

To his credit (and Heather’s honest surprise) Dagur didn't recoil or push Tuff away. He only frowned in concern, wrapping his arms around Tuffnut and pulling him into a tight embrace. The boy made one last feeble attempt to protest he was fine, but it ended in another low sob.

“Brother? What exactly happened on Berk?” Dagur's voice was calm for Tuff’s sake, but Heather knew how quickly that could change and she tensed.

Before Hiccup could begin to explain, Ruff interrupted with a sigh. “Ugh. Remember when I told you that you'd only want to meet half our family?”

Dagur’s eyebrows went up for a moment, then furrowed in sudden understanding. Heather wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she wasn't crazy about the implications. Certainly not after all the rants she'd heard from Dagur about their father - and relying only on himself growing up. At the time, she’d doubted any of those stories were actually true, but now . . .

“Hiccup, if you and the others will excuse us, I think Tuff and I need to be alone for a bit. Let me know as soon as you finish Shatter’s wing, okay?”

For his part, Hiccup gave a bewildered shrug. “I - okay? Ah, but Dagur - you don't have to to be the one to-”

He paused as Tuff, without lifting his head from Dagur's chest, wrapped his arms around the man and clung to him like a barnacle. He was still crying hard, though quietly, save for the occasional broken gasp for air. Ruffnut moved forward to rub his shoulder, just as much as to block him from view.

In the past, Tuff had cried in front of the other Riders before, but it was always theatrical and usually over something ridiculous. This was different, and not in a good way.

Heather bit her lip and because she was worried, it gave her the courage to grab the roll of goods off Windshear’s back and approach her brother.

“Here. Tuff grabbed some stuff from home that he wanted you to have.” And paid dearly for it, she thought, a bit viciously. Not that it was her brother's fault exactly.

Dagur blinked at her in surprise (after initially flinching back) and stood there at a loss, clearly overwhelmed. It was Ruff who took the roll from her.

“I'll get that, his arms are a bit full just now,” she said, offering Heather a genuine albeit brief smile. “Don't worry about a thing, okay? Dagur and I got this.”

Ruff’s damage-control mode was fully engaged. She ignored everyone else in favor of physically steering Dagur and Tuff in the direction of the Twins’ hut.

Heather watched them, and turned her eyes back to Dagur, who was obviously trying so hard not to hopefully look over his shoulder at her. Her heart suddenly ached - confused and hurting more than anything - and she turned back to Windshear. Her dragon crooned softly and nuzzled her face.

“I know, girl,” she said quietly. “It’s a mess. I just . . . can't yet.”

“Heather?” Fishlegs’ voice was a welcome sound that lifted her heart almost immediately. She turned, smiling at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, always so gentle.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just worried about Tuffnut.”

“I know. I am too - I’ve never seen him like this. But I don’t know if Tuff wants all of us crammed in his hut at the same time. If you want, you could come with me to the stables. I was looking up some herbal remedies that might help Shattermaster get his strength up. Or at least give him some pain relief.”

Heather’s eyes lit up. It was a good idea. She wanted to be doing something useful instead of standing around waiting.

“We should start with a salve for pain relief. I saw some beeswax in the pantry, and I can show you where I found wild arnica and yarrow flowers on my walk this morning.”

The Ingerman boy gasped. “You found arnica flowers? Oh, I’ve been looking for that plant everywhere! I was about to Terror-mail a request for seeds from Trader Johann!”

Heather just smiled as Fishlegs continued, going on about all the medicinal plants he wanted to find or purchase by next spring, and she looped her arm around his as they walked. Her spirits were low, but just hearing the boy talk was making everything so much better.

Maybe a little later, she would go check on Tuff. If he was doing better, and if Dagur was still there, she supposed she could try to talk to him then.

\-------

Relief was a strange thing.

It had filled him the very moment he saw Dagur and his sister waiting for him at the docks. It had then multiplied itself into an almost unbearable intensity as soon as their arms and warmth had wrapped around him.

That was the only reason Tuff could think of, to explain why he was still clinging to Dagur like a lifeline. Granted, it was just the man’s arm now, and it didn’t seem to hinder him any as he led Tuff toward the bed. The fact that he couldn't seem to stop sniffling was a bit mortifying though.

Once they were inside, Ruffnut put the roll down and took his face in her hands, briefly touching their foreheads together. “Bro, I'm gonna go get us all some dinner. Just take it easy and hang out with Dagur, huh?”

He nodded and heard Chicken cackling from not too far. She was probably scratching around for a worm to eat. Thank the Gods; he didn't want her to see him like this.

As soon as she'd left, he turned to look toward Dagur but couldn't meet his eyes, humiliated. “Sorry,” Tuff muttered. “I didn’t mean to-”

Dagur interrupted him by pressing a finger to Tuff’s lips. “Hey. You were there for me when I was down. Just relax and let me do the same for you, now.”

Oh. He supposed that could explain the man’s seemingly unending patience? Either way, Tuffnut wasn’t going to argue against Dagur giving him affection right now.

Even so, he’d been expecting to be put in bed, given a hug and left alone to nap it off - but Dagur seemed to have different plans. He did lead Tuff to the bed, but crawled into it with him. Dagur laid back and pulled Tuff to lie against his chest, resting his chin over the trickster’s head.

A sharp splintering pain went through Tuff’s own chest at being held like this - though not entirely physical. He hitched and allowed himself to do as he’d wanted since waking up from that horrible vision - curling to hide his face against Dagur’s shoulder.

Dagur just let him cry, humming softly until Tuff could feel himself starting to calm down. This was far more effective than crying under Ruff’s bed.

“You want to talk about it?” the Berserker asked, after a little while.

Tuff swallowed and wiped at his eyes, for once knowing a claim of wayward bugs wasn’t going to fool anyone (or even himself.) “Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news? My father’s no longer a drunkard. Y-Yay, right?”

Dagur nodded, but didn’t comment, just watching him and waiting.

“The bad news? He hates me. And he wishes I was never born, and I'm the reason why he started drinking in the first place, so . . . so technically I’ve indirectly committed patricide.”

That got a confused look. “What? Why would you think any of that?”

“H-He told me so.”

The Berserker went very quiet and his arms slowly tightened around Tuff a little too much to be comfortable.

“Oh. Did he?” Dagur’s tone was a little off and strained, like he was trying very hard not to plot somebody’s murder. “What do you mean by patricide?”

“H-He's dying. He told me that too.”

“From . . .?”

Guilt stabbed at his heart almost gleefully. “D-Drinking too much!” Tuff managed, nearly wailing the answer. It set off another fit of sobbing, but Dagur gently captured Tuffs face in his hands before he could curl back down.

“Hey, no, shhh, that's not your fault! I'm pretty sure you aren't responsible for anyone's terrible drinking habits, okay? So . . all these cuts? Also him?”

The masked anger in Dagur’s voice was starting to worry him just a bit. Tuffnut made himself clamp down on the urge to cry so he could answer.

“It was just a mug. It shouldn't be a big deal, okay? He's always not liked me. I . . . I just used to not know how much. I'm not even sure exactly what I did wrong, or even - or even how to fix it before he dies -”

“Tuff, that's not your job. He attacked you. You didn’t do anything wrong - trust me on this. Some things just can't be fixed. When a father decides you're worthless to him? That's on him,” Dagur spat, sounding suddenly angry. “And if he dies alone because he shoved you away, that's also on him!”

Tuffnut just sniffled, and looked up. The Berserker’s face lost its angry sneer, and he sighed, looking suddenly forlorn.

“I know it hurts. I know words can’t make it stop hurting. When family turns their back on you and the chips are down, you just have to remember that you aren’t defined by who loves you, and who doesn’t.”

He went quiet for a moment and Tuffnut watched him curiously. Dagur . . . hadn't been talking about Heather. There was something familiar in Dagur’s expression, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. “You and Oswald?”

The Berserker glanced down at him, a little surprised. “Get out of my head, Tuff,” he said, although he was smirking.

“Sorry . . . Heather mentioned what you wrote - about never having killed him. But how did Oswald hurt you?”

Dagur looked at him, stricken. He looked for a second like he was going to be angry and push Tuff away, but instead he sighed and absently carded a hand through his hair.

“It's true. I didn't kill him. I never laid a hand on Oswald, except once. After Mom died, he went ‘soft’, according to our best warriors and Elders. They started openly despising him, but Oswald couldn't see it. All he seemed to care about . . . was Heather. I can see why though - she was such a sweet, gentle, happy baby. She had Mom’s hair and everyone could tell she was going to be the spitting image of her when she grew older.

“When she was a few years older, there was yet another dragon raid on our island. Oswald trusted her to me to get to safety - to head for the caverns on the western shore. I took her by the hand, but a dragon blocked the main path and we were separated from the other running villagers. We were stranded and I couldn't run fast enough while carrying her. A warrior found us, dressed in Berserker armor, and promised to help us get to safety. I was exhausted and let him carry my sister. It . . . was a mistake.

“He ran ahead of me through the smoke, and I tried to follow him, but he was suddenly just gone. None of my father's warriors matched his description - blue eyes and gold hair - and pretty soon it seemed everyone believed I'd used the dragon attack to do away with my sister. Oswald . . . never once defended me. He actually seemed to agree with it - even though he knew I'd loved my sister.

“He always blamed me for everything that went wrong after that, and he told me how disappointed he was every single day. Then one night? He told me if he had a choice, he would gladly give me away, in exchange for Heather returned to him.”

Tuffnut winced. “Ouch.”

Dagur offered a pained smile. “So I punched him. And . . . I didn't stop. I just kept hitting him until someone finally pulled me off. When Oswald got up, he just stared at me - blood all over his face and fine furs and clothing. He stared at me with pity. I’ll never forget that look for as long as I live. Especially since it was the last time I ever saw him alive.”

Dagur was shivering slightly and Tuff pressed against him, trying to offer some comfort with his own warmth. He hadn’t been expecting to hear this story, but he certainly didn’t want to discourage Dagur from telling the rest of it.

“He was discovered missing the next morning, room empty and everything toppled over and ransacked. His advisors - now my advisors - told me our people would riot if they thought Oswald had abandoned them. They’d kill the rest of my clan and replace me with someone more bloodthirsty than Oswald had turned out to be.

“Berserkers are just like that, though. They have to follow the strongest. So I had to put on Dad’s helmet, and go before our people - telling them that Oswald was gone because I’d killed him. I did a lot of questionable things after that, and there wasn’t time to go looking for him or my sister. There were still so many traitors to root out, assassinations to avoid, advisors to execute when I found out they’d hired the assassins . . .”

Dagur trailed off into silence and Tuff - distracted at least from his own woes - sat up and reached thoughtlessly to caress Dagur’s face. He wasn’t really thinking, just running his long fingers gently across the man’s cheek. Green eyes wandered back to his and Dagur gave him a tired smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble on like that.”

“You didn’t. Jeez, and here I thought you at least got to enjoy yourself as Chief for a while. But you weren't even allowed to feel safe.”

“I learned to keep myself safe, and to enjoy some things I really shouldn’t have,” Dagur muttered. “Like vengeance. When I got out of jail, Savage told me he had found the traitor. The man who tricked me, who had stolen Heather away on my watch, had hidden away in this cozy little fishing village.

“I . . . I didn’t even consider she might still be alive, let alone living there. He recognized me though, and he tried to run before I could get answers out of him.” Dagur was shivering again, arms tightening around Tuff. “So naturally, I subdued and threatened him. And . . . also naturally, the rest of the village . . .”

There was a long silence and Tuff could guess what happened by the dread look on Dagur's face. “They stood up to you. To protect their own.”

Dagur nodded, lowering his gaze. “They couldn’t have known anything save whatever lies he told them, but I didn’t care about that. He didn't even stick around to help him fight - just ran again, like a coward! I struck down one or two villagers, trying to pursue him, but he got away. By the time I got back to the shore, my Berserkers had annihilated everyone else who fought.

“At the time, I didn’t even care. Just told them to take whatever supplies we needed and leave the survivors with nothing. It was heartless of me, I know that. I let my rage take over and lead me, instead of any common sense, and I can never undo the hurt I caused my sister or her loved ones.”

Tuffnut was about to say something he hoped was helpful, but a clatter from the doorway distracted him. A small jar rolled across the floor to stop at the bed. He glanced over Dagur’s shoulder and then swore softly.

Heather was standing there, white faced, frozen, tears spilling down her face.

Dagur nearly jumped out of his skin, and upset Tuff’s balance - though he caught the boy before he could fall off the bed. When he turned to see Heather, he gave an oddly horrified squeak. His sister merely raised her head and looked at him evenly.

“Fishlegs and I -” she managed, strained, “made you a salve. For Shattermaster’s wing. It will help relieve pain.”

Dagur looked like he wanted to bolt, but so did Heather, to be fair. At first, Tuff briefly considered getting up to let them talk it out, but Dagur’s arm snaked around his waist and held him in place - possibly from terror.

Tuffnut didn’t know what to do either, except for one thing. He motioned Heather inside, simply by reaching out his free arm - as though inviting her in for a hug.

On stiff legs, like a newborn calf, Heather walked toward him. Dagur then tried to get up, only to be foiled by Tuff sitting firmly on his legs - which he knew were probably full of that pins and needle sensation by now.

Evil of him, perhaps, but he also knew if either of them ran off, this was likely never going to get resolved.

Heather came close enough for Tuff to take her hand gently, to keep her there. It wasn’t anything demanding - just a gesture to let her know he was here for her too. (And that if she really wanted to run, he would let go.)

She didn’t though, sitting down shakily on the edge of the bed.

“Our father,” Heather said finally, after what seemed an eternity. “Really isn’t dead, is he?”

“No,” Dagur managed, voice sounding oddly small. “Well, I don't know about now. But I didn't kill him.”

“And you caused all that in my village . . . because of someone who stole me? When I was a child? You didn’t set me adrift?”

A dry sob escaped Dagur and he shook his head. “He said he was taking you home, Heather. I swear, he seemed like someone I could trust - I never thought he’d steal you!”

“I remember a little boat. Nothing bad. Just a boat, with someone rowing me, and then my parents . . .” Heather sounded so lost. Dagur choked, and was starting to sob in earnest.

Tuffnut wrapped his arms around Heather, pulled her into an embrace, and leaned back into Dagur’s arms. He was going to make these two hug by proxy if he had to, Thor damn it.

Dagur got the hint, fortunately, and joined in - arms going around the both of them as he shivered.

“H-Heather, I'm s-”

“Don't. Please,” she whispered, but stayed where she was against Tuffnut. “Just . . .”

Shakily, Dagur nodded, and hugged the both of them into even a tighter embrace, while Heather hid her face against Tuff’s collar.

His ribs protested of course, but he figured they would have anyway.


End file.
